don't you know you've got the best of me?
by raquians
Summary: A complete rework of the series from Hermione's POV in which she and the twins are fast friends (and maybe something a lil more with one of them). Some things change, some things stay the same, some things... do a little bit of both. Canon rewrite Fred Lives AU FW/HG
1. i don't know where it starts

_I post more in depth notes on AO3 (I like that it doesn't inflate the word count, I go by the same user name over there if you'd like to read more in depth notes) but here's the jist of it: _

_This fic will not be abandoned—it is already about 75-85% finished and means the world to me. My goal is to have it completed by June. _

_Fred Lives! _

_Some bigger changes will be made, some smaller changes will be made. This is an AU but it sticks CLOSELY to the plot of canon. Ron will not be bashed, but don't think that means I'll ignore his childishness, jealousy, and over reactions. He's still got to grow up in this fic, just like he did in canon. I also don't rewrite all the scenes from the books—I gloss over A LOT of it, and just mention it summarized. If I rewrote it all, these would end up being LONGER than the books and I'm not for that hahaha._

_Fic title is from Since We're Alone by Niall Horan. Chapter titles also are all from his lyrics! I feel his songs are very good for this ship. _

**_disclaimer: i do not own harry potter or any associated characters, plots, settings, or the likes. _**

* * *

_**book i. **_

"So I'm a witch?"

"Precisely," the woman—Professor McGonagall she calls her self—nods. "You've noticed odd things happening around you?"

"Yes, I have. Making people trip or items come to me or—"

"Hermione," her mother cuts her off, voice high and tight. Panicked.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Professor McGonagall smiles at her mum. "When children find out they're not alone it's a relief and it all comes out at once."

Her parents eye the woman suspiciously, but Hermione is ecstatic. "So when can I go?"

"Now, Hermione—" her dad begins.

Professor McGonagall holds up her hand. She smiles at Hermione. "You'll be joining next years class—so next September you can join us." She turns to Hermione's parents and pulls out a stick? Or—a wand! She flicks it and one of the items she had set on their table transforms into a book. "This is for you two. It's a brief guide explaining what Hogwarts is and what we teach and the issues that can arise if your daughter does not learn to control her magic."

And so begins a whirlwind of a year—reading every book her parents allow her to buy that first day at Diagon Alley, waving her wand about, ignoring her classmates since she doesn't need them to like her anymore—not when she is going to have friends that appreciate her by this time next year.

So months pass. Christmas passes with even more books that McGonagall helps her parents find, Valentine's passes with her receiving only the worst of Valentine's cards from her classmates ("my parents made me" Ashley Dune sneers, handing her a crumpled card, and the piece of candy that's attached to it is clearly pulverized beneath the wrapper), and a tearful good bye to all of her teachers in June passes when she tells them she'll be going to a gifted school next year (none of them are surprised, but they don't know what _kind_ of gift).

Summer seems to go by too quickly and too slowly all at once until finally (_finally!_) she is boarding the Hogwarts Express, barely even remembering to look back to say good bye to her parents.

She steers clear of everyone for the initial boarding, choosing instead to observe and find people to avoid. She's read about the Houses—she's not looking forward to seeing any Slytherins, not with her lineage. She finds a compartment with one other boy, around her age, and another girl either her age, or maybe a year older.

When they're about halfway through the journey, the boy sitting next to her starts looking around the compartment frantically. "Oh _no_," he moans.

Hermione frowns. "What? What's happened?"

"Did you notice Trevor leaving?"

"Trevor?" she asks. There hadn't been another boy in the compartment with them, had there?

"My toad! Oh, don't worry yourself with it, I've just got to—"

"No! I'll help look! Trevor, you say?"

She helps the boy who tells her his name is Neville, despite being laughed at and picked on in half of the compartments she enters.

"Excuse me, have you seen a toad, by chance?"

The entire cabin looks up at her. There's two identical red headed boys, a black boy with dreadlocks, a pale girl with short, shiny black hair, a girl with her hair pulled in to a pony tail framing her olive-toned face, and a black girl with voluminous curls. They all look settled in a way that every other first year has decidedly _not_, so she decides they must be second years or above. They don't look terribly old—perhaps second or third years?

She entirely expects them to ridicule her, just like the last few compartments, particularly the one she stopped at just before—a silver-haired boy who had asked if she'd known who he was. (He had told her right after, and she had left right after.)

"A _toad_ you say?" one of the red heads asks.

"Yes," she nods, her tone defensive. "He's called Trevor. I'm not sure if that's important; I can't imagine a toad knowing its name, so it's not as if it'd be able to tell you his name or as though you can _call_ to it…"

"No, I don't imagine you can," the ponytail girl says, a small laugh escaping. Her eyes remain kind, thankfully. "Have you lost yours?"

"Oh, no. Neville has."

"Sorry," the shorthaired girl apologizes. "If he comes in here we'll come find you, alright?"

She smiles and nods in thanks. "Could I possibly ask what House you're in?"

She directs the question at the girls, but one of the red-headed twins answers with a quick "Gryffindor." The other one looks up at her. "Why?"

"I'm just trying to get an idea of what kind of people belong to which House."

The olive-skinned girl grins. "Are we a good or bad people?"

"Good," Hermione smiles. "Thank you, and please do find me if you see Trevor."

*\

The rest of the train ride passes quickly—she meets Harry Potter but he and his friend seem like they don't care to talk with her. She's learned well enough when she's not wanted, and Harry may not have been giving off the signals she knew, but Ron certainly had been.

Less than an hour after pulling up at the Hogwarts Station, she was sitting on a stool place before the entire Great Hall eagerly.

"You think you could do well in Gryffindor?" the hat asks as it is placed on her head.

She frowns, both at the immediate intrusion in to her mind and at the question asked. "Do you think I would not?"

"I think you'd be welcome in Ravenclaw," the hat says.

"I don't want to be where I'm welcome, I want to be where I'm meant to be."

She feels the hat shift on her head—_actually_ shifts, like it's uncomfortable. "I didn't mean it quite like that…"

"Then why did you say that?"

"Hmm," it deliberates. "You're smart—intelligent beyond your years. You have more of a thirst for knowledge than for adventure. But, oh, that courage. You may not seek adventure but you wouldn't turn from it, would you?"

Hermione doesn't say anything directly to the hat, though she knows it will still hear. She just—isn't sure about what she'd do if adventure crossed her path. She thinks she might run from it. She thinks she might run to it. She thinks it might depend on the circumstances—what if running to it got her in trouble?

"So worried about self-preservation? My, my, how very _Slytherin_ of you…"

"_No!_ Well, yes, but… But what if… what about the others getting in trouble, too? I would never want to get another in trouble or be the reason they're hurt or punished or anything of that sort," Hermione ponders.

"… very Hufflepuff of you, now, that loyalty, and wanting to keep things just."

"Oh, please, stop joking around, you know you're not going to sort me in to Slytherin or Hufflepuff."

The hat makes an amused noise. "And why is that?"

"I'm not patient, I don't welcome everyone in—"

"Ah, but you're passionate and committed and loyal, are you not?"

"You're the one inside my head," she snaps, starting to lose her cool, "you tell me."

"I would, but we don't have time—you have a myriad of qualities within you, Hermione Granger. That loyalty I mentioned is not out of place in Gryffindor, either. But such _talent_... It'd be a shame for Ravenclaw to miss out on your abilities."

"You're deciding where I'm going to sleep, not who gets to use and control me! Ravenclaw wouldn't miss out on anything because my abilities are mine alone, no matter where I go, even if you put me in Slytherin where I'll be an outcast because of my parents."

The hat was silent for a long moment. "You're an interesting one," it admits, "but I am not just deciding where you sleep."

"Yes, I understand, you're deciding what my values are—bravery or creativity? Am I chivalrous or wise? Where I'm _meant to be_ like I told you before. That still doesn't mean that those Houses get to _use_ me."

"Do you know of the House Cup?" the hat questions.

She scoffs. "Of course. I _have_ read _Hogwarts: A History_."

"Then do your House points you earn mean nothing to you? Do you not think they should count—you should not contribute to your House by using your knowledge and wit?"

"Well… that's not the same as _using_ me—that's benefiting from me."

"You _do_ like to get technical, don't you? Not everything has to be taken so literal. Tell me, in the end, would you rather be left with your bravery or mind?"

Hermione scowls. "But how can that be answered? If I was left with bravery I'd have my mind to help me make decisions because bravery isn't the same as stupidity. And if I had my mind I'd be able to choose when to be brave."

"My, my, my," the hat grumbles, "you're the trickiest one I've had to sort in two decades. What do you feel in your heart is the right choice for you?"

Without her permission, _Gryffindor_ floats to the top of her mind. She tries to back track—she wants to consider her choices. Ravenclaw _wouldn't_ be bad at all, what if that's where she's meant to—

"I did not want you to think on it—_thank _you for not thinking 'both' like the last person I asked that question to—your answer is clear enough, you will be—"

"_GRYFFINDOR!_" She realizes suddenly that the voice hadn't come from inside her head this time—it had been shouted clear across the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall lifts the hat from Hermione's head and smiles down at her. Hermione is just relieved that it's over. She smiles back at the professor and rushes over to the cheering table.

She takes a seat and frowns, watching the student after her being sorted before she's even sat. She looks to the red head across from her. "Does all the conversation in your head go much faster than it seems?"

The red head looks from the unsorted group to Hermione. "What d'you mean?"

"Well… they're all being sorted so quick… I hadn't paid much attention to the time going by while I was waiting my turn, but I feel like I was up there forever!"

"You were," a voice chimes in from her left—multiple spaces for other students to sit between them. She looks at him.

"You're one of the boys from the train."

He cocks an eyebrow. She looks past him to see the other identical boy. She realizes the entire group from that compartment is in that area. From a ways down the table, the girl with the pony tail spots her and smiles. Hermione smiles back, but they're too far apart to speak with each other without causing a scene. The twin that hasn't spoken yet laughs quietly. "Normally I'd point out that every bloke in here was on that train so that'd be a vague statement, but I'll allow it—yeah. Did you find Trevor?"

Hermione nods. "Yes! Right as we were unloading, Hagrid found him for Neville!"

"That's good," the first twin smiles. "I'm George, by the way."

"Fred," the second one greets. "And you, Hermione, were up there for almost four and a half minutes. That's not quite common."

"At all," George adds.

"Oh, hush," the older looking red head sitting across from her snaps at the twins. "Don't mind them—it's not common but it's not unheard of. They're called hatstalls when you're up there for over five minutes. There hasn't been one in quite some time."

"That's what it said! Two decades!" she cries in a hushed voice. "Is there something the matter with me?"

"No, not at all," the red head says. "It just had a hard time putting you in a House, didn't it? It happens sometimes if a person has qualities for multiple Houses. I'm Percy, by the way, pleasure to meet you." He sticks a hand out and Hermione shakes it.

"So where did it want to put you?" George asks.

Hermione grimaces. "It _mentioned_ every House as a possibility, but I think it was only _really_ considering Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."

"_Every House?_" Fred says, and his eyebrows disappear beneath the hair falling over his forehead.

"Yes, but I think Hufflepuff and Slytherin were just in passing. Actually, I think the Slytherin was a joke—it _must_ have been—there are no other witches or wizards in my family and I hear they don't like that."

"Thank Merlin you're not in Slytherin, they're horrid—"

"Oh, quiet," hisses Percy. "We don't have to go around advertising what they make clear on their own and risk losing House Points before we even _have_ any!"

"This one is taking a while, too," George says, looking up at the stool where the Sorting Hat was perched on a boy's head. "Just over two minutes, now."

"Blimey, what's with Ol' Sorty? Is he losing his touch?" Fred says.

"Think he'll take more time to sort than our lovely Granger over here?" George asks.

"Not a chance," Fred shakes his head. "That kid has Hufflepuff written all over—"

"_GRYFFINDOR!_"

The Sorting Hat actually sounds a little huffy; she wonders if the Hat deemed the boy up there now as difficult as her, or even worse. Professor McGonagall lifts the hat from the boy's head and he looks terrified. It's Neville, the boy with the lost toad. Hermione feels relief at having at least one friend in her House.

"Think you're better than the Sorting Hat, do you?" Hermione quips, and Fred looks at her challengingly while Neville scurries to the table and takes a seat on Percy's side.

Professor McGonagall calls up a boy called MacDougal and Fred glances at him. "Ravenclaw."

"Second that," George nods.

Hermione looks up at the boy. "Gryffindor," she decides.

"There are no wagers involved here, correct?" Percy asks from across from her. "Because if there are—"

"Not at all!" Hermione frowns. "I would never."

Percy eyes her, but seems to accept her answer, just as the Sorting Hat calls out "_RAVENCLAW!_"

Fred and George grin at her. She scowls.

The next boy up (Macmillan, Ernest) sits down on the chair, his head high. "Slytherin," Fred and George say simultaneously.

Hermione studies him as the hat is placed on his head. His shoulders are tight, and his fists clenched—he's very nervous. "Hufflepuff," she guesses, mainly to spite them, but she also thinks it's a possibility. She starts sliding down the bench, closer to the twins, feeling bad for the others around her having to listen to them talking. Once she's seated next to George and across from Percy, the hat decides.

"_HUFFLEPUFF!_" it cries. Hermione bites her lip to stop from smiling too wide when the twins frown at her.

When Professor McGonagall calls up Malfoy, Draco, she scowls when she sees the silver-haired boy. "Slytherin," she says with no hesitation.

"No doubt," the twins agree. When the hat barely touches the boy's head before calling out the green House, they all grin.

Malone, Roger was up next. "Hufflepuff," Hermione says.

"Gryffindor," Fred says.

George frowns. "I'm going with Hermione on this one."

Fred gasps, and throws his hand over his heart. "_How could you?_"

(They're all wrong, he's Ravenclaw.)

They carry on like that for the rest of the sorting. Once the sorting is done and Dumbledore has spoken, they turn to the black girl from the train that had started keeping tally of who had correctly sorted the students; Hermione has beaten them by a hair.

"Rematch, same time, same place, next year," Fred demands.

She rolls her eyes. "You're on."

"We'll have the entire year to sort," George says. "Not just everyone you got to know while you were waiting."

"I did not cheat!" She doesn't say that others don't want to talk to her so she couldn't have cheated, but she thinks it. She isn't in the habit of fooling herself.

"Guess we'll find out next year, won't we?" Fred grins.

She nods. "We will."

Across from her, a ghost tips his head off his shoulders, until it's hanging on barely more than a string. She stares, then looks to the twins, Percy, the girls she met on the train in confusion. Is this normal? Is this common? She thinks it must be.

This is her new world.

*\

It is Wednesday—three days in to term, four days since she had arrived—when she first makes her way up to the Owlery. McGonagall had given her a map of how to get there, but she'd still had to work up the courage to venture out on her own. The letter she had written has been taunting her for over 36 hours at this point, so she dug the map from the trunk and wandered out of the castle towards the Owlery.

"—shrink it then we'll have to wait until we're seventeen to unshrink it!"

"If we leave it normal Mum is going to see it for sure and we'll be done for."

"… alright, then. _Reducio!_"

Hermione peaks around the corner. One of the twins (George, she thinks, since his robes are actually buttoned up) picks up an object off of the window's ledge and holds it up. It looks like a white, mini horseshoe. "Maybe we could get Bill to put it back when he comes to visit?"

"Brilliant," the other one nods. He looks around, up at the owls. "Now where's Thief? He's always been Ginny's favorite."

Hermione thinks it's safe to go in now. She reaches in her bag for her letter and grabs a treat from the bowl to lure an owl towards her. A medium sized tawny owl swoops down to her and perches on the stand in front of her. She feeds it the treat and smiles when it lets her stroke its feathers.

"That's Gwen."

Hermione yelps and jumps. The owls around her all fluff their feathers in surprise. She looks over her shoulder. One of the twins is grinning at her. She turns around to face him. From where she is now, she can see both of their faces, their shoulders, their nuances. Her eyes flick between them for a moment before she settles. Fred. Fred is the one standing next to her. She looks back at the owl, and then to Fred again. "Gwen?"

"Yep," he says. "She's not as quick as some of the others, but she's much nicer. Likes people quite a bit. You're a Muggle-born, right?" She nods, wary of where he's going with this. "I'll bet your parents will appreciate her. She's rather underwhelming. Doesn't demand treats like some of the others, is patient—lots of Muggle parents need that because it can take them hours to find where the tapping is coming from."

Hermione smiles at the owl. "You sound lovely," she tells Gwen.

"Why thank you," Fred smirks.

Hermione scowls at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Fred, I actually wasn't speaking to _you_."

"Right, that," George joins the conversation from across the room. There's a screech owl perched in front of him. "That was clearly directed at me."

"She wasn't even facing you," Fred argues.

"I wasn't facing you either," she says. Her voice doesn't sound as defiant as she'd like because, well, she's quite proud of herself for correctly identifying the twins.

"You weren't facing _away_ from m—"

"Gwen," Hermione says, cutting him off. "Can you deliver this to my parents? I appreciate it."

Gwen fluffs her feathers and clicks her beak a few times before hopping to the window and out, spreading her wings as she jumps. She's gone.

"Now that she's out of our company we can get back to my loveliness," Fred says.

"_My_ loveliness!" George yells.

"Neither of you are lovely," she says. "What've you got there, anyway?"

Identical grins grow on their faces. "A gift for our little sister. She'll be here next year, you see, but we wanted her to have a little piece of Hogwarts with her," Fred tells her.

"So we stole a toilet seat," George says.

"You _what?_"

"From one of the old, run down bathrooms that hasn't been used in ages, yeah. It's not that hard," Fred laughs. "You just—"

"But you _stole_ Hogwarts property!" she gasps. "And why on _earth_ would you send a _toilet seat_ to your sister?"

"Because we told her we would." George says.

"Why would you _tell_ her you would?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

Hermione opens her mouth—but she can't come up with anything. Stealing was her only _actual_ defense but if they'd gone to a dilapidated, unused bathroom for it… she really didn't have an objection. Though it was still stealing. And why a _toilet_ seat?

"Why a toilet seat?"

"Why not a toilet seat?" Fred counters.

Hermione frowns.

That's one way of looking at it.

Fred and George have a lot of ways of looking at a lot of things. She doesn't know most of them, because she doesn't know them, but she thinks she can appreciate what she does know.

*\

Meals aren't anything special. She sits just separated from the first years with a book sitting open next to her plate, picking at the variety of food that shows up on the tables and drinking out of her unnecessarily fancy goblet. Depending on where her classmates sit, she either gets to listen to Ron and Harry complaining, Neville worrying about something with someone, Dean and Seamus bickering, or Lavender and Parvati gossiping. (Her other two dorm mates—Sally and Sophie—don't seem to sit at the Gryffindor table too often. She thinks Sally has a sibling in Hufflepuff, but she isn't certain.) Other times she'll sit nearer Percy. When she does, he's always happy to speak with her about her classes and reminisce his own first year.

Sometimes, though, she skips meals all together in favor of spending time at the library. After the night she had last night—the late night rendezvous with Harry, Ron, and Neville that she had little to no say in—she had no desire to take part in any social activity today.

No such luck.

"Heard you think getting expelled is worse than getting _killed_, Granger."

Hermione looks up from her books and frowns. One of the twins stands in front of her, leaning his hands on the back of a chair. He's rapping his fingers against the wood—not anxiously, not nervously, just… restless, like he has too much energy stored up in his body and needs an outlet. She stares up at his face for a moment. Merlin, she can't for the life of her tell which one is which unless they're both in front of her. She needs to work on that.

She turns back to her book and shrugs. "Most people might if their choice was dying in this world or getting sent back to mine."

There's a punch of air from above her, and the finger drumming stops. "Well that's one way to look at it," the twin says, shifting awkwardly. He pulls the chair out and takes a seat across from her. "Muggle life is really that bad?"

She considers. "Well, not exactly. It's actually quite better in some areas."

"So why—"

"If you think I'm an outcast here, this is nothing compared to my—my Muggle school. I'm not sure if you're aware, but _know-it-alls_ typically aren't liked anywhere," she explains. "On top of that, I was a '_freak_' there because strange things always happened around me when I couldn't control my magic and the teasing got particularly bad. But at least at Hogwarts I have professors that like me—for the most part—and new things to learn," she gestures around the library, "and. Well. Percy talks to me."

"What are George and I doing, then?" he asks. Fred, then.

Hermione shrugs. "Indulging me?"

A grin stretches across the boys face. "So talking to us is something you find pleasurable?"

She frowns and bites out a quick "no."

"Ah, but Granger," Fred sing-songs, "isn't that the, let's say _text book_, definition of indulge? And we know how you love your text books…" He turns to a row of shelves behind him. "Georgie! Come back me up!"

Another ginger head pops out, three rows down. He's balancing three books in his arms and nods at Hermione. "I agree with Fred."

Fred turns back to Hermione with a smug look on his face. "See?"

"_First of all_, George didn't even know what he was agreeing to," she points out. "_Secondly_, talking to _anyone_ is nice, as I don't get to do it much. I'll settle for _anyone_, I'll have you know. Third, how do you even know the text book definition of indulge?"

The grin slips off of Fred's face, only to be replaced by something that looks like pity. Oh, no. That is the _last_ thing she wants, because the twins have always spoken to her by their own choice, and she can't have it that they only do so because they feel _bad_. It was meant to be a _joke_ anyways—surely he didn't think she'd settle for anyone, not when cruel kids like Draco Malfoy roamed the halls.

"Well, you guys at least talk back," she shrugs with a clearly sarcastic grin, hoping he'll pick up on her attempt at another joke. "And people think _I_ like the sound of _my_ voice. Merlin, have they met you?"

Fred still looks upset.

So. Jokes. Not her strong point.

Fred opens his mouth, but Hermione holds up a hand. "I don't care what you've taken from whatever I just said. I'm _happy_ here, Fred Weasley. Don't feel the need to indulge me." She closes the book she was reading. "Now, if you don't mind terribly, I think I'm going to go finish this book elsewhere."

Fred nods and offers her a smile. Against her better judgment, she returns it.

Fred gets up while she's packing up her books, and turns to leave. He hesitates. "Hermione?"

"Hm?"

"They can't just send you back to your old world. This is your world, too. It's not… temporary." He shifts his weight and stares at her with a meaningful look in his eye. "Hogwarts or no Hogwarts, you'll never just suddenly belong in the Muggle world, because it was never yours. The Wizarding world has just been waiting for you to arrive."

Hermione stares at the teenager, shocked in to silence. She's not sure what to say, or if she should say anything at all. She's touched, of course. It's the most blatant acceptance in to the magical world—in to _any_ world—that she's received, excluding only her Hogwarts Letter. This might even beat that. Even while she doesn't quite believe it and worries that the next time she doesn't know an answer to a professor's question they'll dub her a failure and kick her out, she's still thankful for it.

Instead of trying to put that in to words, she smiles at him. Her smile stretches across her entire face until she's beaming—like a ray of sun finally finding a path through the crowded foliage to the forest floor, spreading warmth as it goes.

He offers one back, and then he's gone.

She _belongs_.

*\

See, the thing about Fred and George is that, well. She lets her guard down around them. She's not quite sure why—it might be because they take so little seriously and she feels they won't take her problems seriously, either. That's clearly not the case.

It's the second Saturday in the semester, the day after their talk in the library, that they claim her. She is walking in to the Great Hall for lunch (she hadn't gone to breakfast so she could get a head start on her essay for Professor Binns that was due next Thursday) when, half way down the Gryffindor table, a hand shoots out to pull her in. She squeaks as she stumbles towards the bench and collides with a hard body. She opens her mouth to scold her attacker, but freezes when she looks up and finds a red-haired twin grinning down at her. She looks behind the twin and finds the other, who she immediately identifies as Fred.

"George!" she huffs angrily, ripping her arm out of his grasp. This causes her to fall closer to the bench, landing uncomfortably on the corner of the seat. She glares up at the boy. "What do you want?"

"Your company," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione turns her glare on Fred. "I _told_ you—"

"We're indulging _ourselves_," he smirks from behind his brother.

She turns to see who is around them, and relaxes when she finds only Lee Jordan, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet. All of them have either been completely nice to her, or simply ignored her. Alicia even goes as far to offer her a kind smile right now, even though Hermione is fighting down the urge to rub her bottom, where she's quite certain a bruise is forming.

George reaches down and lifts her legs, spinning her around on the bench so they're tucked under the table and she's left staring at the food in front of her.

"But—I had a question for—"

"You can talk to Percy another time," George waves her off.

Fred nods. "All you have to do is spin three times in front of a mirror and say 'perfect prefect Percy' and he'll appear."

Hermione resists the urge to roll her eyes. Accepting her fate, she starts reaching for food to pile on her plate. "Did you know that that tale actually got passed to Muggles?"

"What tale?" Alicia wonders from across the table.

Hermione startles. She hadn't expected the others to actually engage with her. "Well, the Bloody Mary tale. It started out with seers, they could look into a mirror and see either their husband's face or the grim reaper if they'd die before they married. It then became more wide spread, and used to see the general future, not just future spouses. Sometime in the 19th century Muggles, started using it, though they obviously couldn't actually see anything or anyone. It was just tricks of the light. Only true seers can perform that ritual, anyways. In Muggle culture today it's a game of sorts, to scare people by telling them she might scratch their eyes out. It's just curious as to how it transferred over to Muggle culture."

Katie grimaces. "Well let's hope Percy doesn't show up in your mirror then," she says. "You deserve better than him."

"What's wrong with Percy?" Hermione frowns. Percy is smart and focused and determined and not that Hermione _likes_ him _likes_ him and would _want_ him to be her future spouse, but if they don't like Percy… how could they possibly like her?

"Can't take a prank," Fred tells her.

"Doesn't know a joke," George chimes in.

"Cares more about the rules than Dumbledore."

"May not know how to smile, research on that one is still on going."

"Cares more about the rules than _Mum_."

"Smells a bit weird, that one."

"Probably sat on his wand, if the stick up his a—"

"Alright," Alicia cuts Fred off, ignoring a cackling Lee next to her. She turns to Hermione. "Percy is smart and helpful, but he cares more about himself than anything else. That's his prerogative, but as Gryffindors we all have a habit of reckless loyalty to our closest friends, and sometimes strangers. His extreme self-preservation is not something we personally appreciate; it's not a common trait in this House." She takes a bite of her chicken and points her fork at Hermione. "He's not like you, for example. Ron and Harry have been utter prats to you, and you still tried to help them."

Hermione's face goes up in flames, thinking about how she would have ratted them out had they been caught. Sure, it was mainly to stop them from losing House Points, but she wouldn't have hesitated. "Well—"

"She's right," Lee grins. "Me? I appreciate what Ron and Harry did—even if it was a stupid idea. But I'm good at stupid ideas, personally. I excel at them. Now, if I had someone like you to help me out? Maybe I wouldn't land on my arse _as_ much."

"Lee!" Katie huffs. "Language!"

"Oh—c'mon, she's _eleven_, for Merlin's sake! I don't think _arse_ is going to bother her too much."

"I'm twelve, actually," Hermione murmurs, staring down at her plate.

She can see George turn his body to face her out of the corner of her eye.

"Really?" he asks, excited. "Since when?"

"Well, I'm not yet, exactly."

Alicia smiles at her. "It's gotta be soon if you corrected him, yeah?"

"Yeah," Fred echoes. "When is it?"

"The 19th."

"Oi! Why'd you never say?" Fred croons, ignoring the fact that they've only just become friends and she never had a chance to tell them before. "We need to celebrate!"

"No—"

"Shush, shush," George says, waving a hand in dismissal. Her jaw drops at him, half in shock, half in annoyance. She turns to Alicia who laughs and shrugs. It's not a laugh at Hermione's expense. It's a laugh directed at the situation, at George flapping his hand around and shushing the first year. It's friendly, and almost sympathetic. And when Hermione joins in, it's _shared_. This might be the first time Hermione has laughed _with_ someone at this school, and it feels so incredibly nice. She knows from this one time that she doesn't want to go back to not having anyone to laugh with.

To her right, George and Fred have their heads bent together with Lee leaning over the table to join in the conversation. She feels awkward for just a moment, now that the twins are preoccupied and she's sitting with two girls she hardly knows. The moment doesn't last long, however, as Katie turns to Hermione. "How do you like classes so far?" she asks. "Last year was so overwhelming for me."

Hermione glances down to where Harry and Ron are sitting, and doesn't feel rejected, for the first time. She doesn't need them. She turns back to Katie.

*\

"Hermione," Lavender calls. Hermione looks up. Lavender and Parvati are sitting on Parvati's bed, their heads clearly having popped up from being bent together in their nightly gossip routine. "Did you really sit with the third years today?"

She frowns. Were they gossiping about _her?_ "Some of them, and Katie," she frowns.

"But why would you… Are you friends with them?" Parvati asks.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Lavender gasps. "How did you do it?"

"Pardon me?"

"Make friends with them, how did you? You're not—or, I mean, _they're_ not…"

Hermione scoffs. "Please, just because you two don't like me doesn't mean no one else does. Fred and George sat with me in the library one day and then introduced me to their friends." She doesn't mention that they sat with her in the library yesterday and introduced her to their friends just at lunch today.

Lavender squeals. "_They_ approached _you?_"

"Yes."

"Oh! Hermione, you _must_ tell us about them," Parvati says excitedly. "Are the twins really as dreamy as everyone says?"

"Is Lee Jordan as charming as they say?" Lavender adds on.

"What about—"

"Enough!" Hermione snaps. "I'm not going to _gossip_ about my _friends_ to the likes of _you_. Some of us happen to like them because of their hearts and personality rather than their reputations and popularity. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."

*\

She spends all of her free time split between the library and her group of friends. They've joined her in the library three times now—once just the girls, once the twins, and once the entire group—but they typically spend their time together in the Great Hall, or the Common Room, or by the lake. She learns more about the wizarding world each day—of the schools spread far and wide, the secrets both pure and dark, the wonders… that are mostly dangerous, but still wondrous.

Each day she fits more and more nicely into this world she's found herself in, and she doesn't ever want to leave.

That Thursday, which she had expected to pass quietly with no more than a note from her parents, does not pass quietly.

Shortly after Hermione has woken up and showered for the day, her dorm door bursts open. From behind their curtains where they had likely still been asleep, Hermione hears Lavender and Sophie screech, and confused mumblings coming from Parvati and Sally's beds. Hermione looks at the door, shocked to see Alicia, Katie, and Angelina standing there. They look just as shocked to see her out of bed.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione," Alicia groans. "What time did you get up?"

"Quarter 'til seven?"

Alicia looks at Angelina and Katie. "She's making us look bad, girls."

"We can't have that, can we?" Angelina frowns. Despite having only met her three days ago (since she'd been working with Oliver and Harry on Quidditch over the weekend), Hermione is almost equally as close to Angelina as she is with Alicia and Katie. Angelina throws herself in to everything she does—including friendships.

Katie gives her a contemplative look. "Well. Maybe _today_ we can. You know. Special occasion and all."

"Right, right," Alicia snaps her fingers. "Myron Wagtail's birthday is a time for celebration, not competition."

Hermione tilts her head. "Myron… _Wagtail?_"

Angelina gasps, dramatically covering her heart with a hand. "Herms! _Don't_ tell me you haven't heard of The Weird Sisters?"

"Can't say I have," she says with a small laugh.

The girls all stare at her, and then look to each other. "Alright," Alicia decides. She walks over to Hermione and, with a flick of her wand, dries the young witch's hair. "You're not getting all of your gifts today because we hadn't realized you needed The Weird Sisters album. Now get your shoes on, the boys are waiting for us."

"They're actually awake?" Hermione asks disbelievingly. Still, she reaches under her bed and pulls out her shoes to slip on.

"Of course," Angelia says. "We need all of breakfast for you to get through your presents."

"Oh no."

"Oh _yes_," Alicia says. She picks up Hermione's wand off of the bedside table and thrusts it into her friend's hands. "Let's _go_."

The three of them drag her down to the common room where, upon stepping off the last step to the dorms, an explosion of fireworks goes off just a few meters in front of her. She yelps loudly and stumbles backwards, but Angelina catches her with a laugh. Hermione stares at the fireworks, which are flying around in a two meter allotted area, spelling out a colorful 'Happy Birthday, Hermione!'

She stares at the words for a long moment before her gaze shifts to the three bodies standing off to the right, beaming at her. Fred, George, and Lee look immensely proud of themselves and Hermione really, really wants to cry.

She runs past the firework display and launches herself at the boys, struggling to get them all in to her short, twelve year-old arms. They scoot in closer so they can hold her too, laughing all the while and wishing her happy birthday. That's when she does start crying. Just a few tears, mind you, but she has to reach up and wipe them away, still.

"I think those are good tears," Lee guesses, and Hermione laughs. She nods at him. "Well then I'm glad."

Hermione wipes at her cheeks again, blushing. "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm—I'm not usually like this," she tries.

She's not. She's really, really not the type of person to cry at a kind gesture, or in front of anyone at all. But, see, this is the first time anyone besides her parents have willingly gone out of their way to celebrate her birthday—if you don't count her primary school teachers making the rest of her class sing to her, that is. When she was younger she had children from her school and dance classes (for the two years she attended those dance classes, before realizing they were really not meant for her) attend her birthday parties like everyone did. But then, when she was eight, she had asked her parents to not throw a party, as everyone tended to group off in to groups that didn't involve her, and even at her young age it made her miserable.

This group, though… The fireworks can't have been simple magic. She's fairly certain the twins bought them at a joke shop, but to charm them to spell out a message was no simple feat, let alone for three third years. That they had done so in only five days since they learned her birthday made her feel like they truly wanted her to enjoy her day and celebrate with her.

Fred slings an arm over her shoulder. He helps wipe her cheeks of any tears and smiles brightly at her. "Not a worry, we'll get you to cry more tears of joy yet."

They make their way to the Great Hall, Fred's arm remaining around her shoulders the entire way.

"We had the kitchens make your favorite," Alicia grins as they settle at their spot. "Or, at least what we assume is your favorite, since you ate three chocolate chip waffles on Monday when they were out. That's the present that is going to take you all of breakfast to get through."

Hermione blushes when Alicia finishes off with a wink and Fred leans in to her space to nudge her. "Thank you," she says, flustered that they've been paying attention.

"I'm going first for gifts," Lee says. He reaches in to his bag and pulls out a poorly wrapped parcel that he hands to Hermione.

Hermione takes it and stares at it for a long moment. Not only did she just befriend this group five days prior, but out of all of them, her and Lee have interacted the least. And yet, here she is, holding a gift from him in her hands. She looks at him. "Thank you," she says, shocked.

Lee laughs. "Maybe wait until you open it before you thank me," he says.

"Oh," she breathes. Maybe—well, he wouldn't prank her, she knows, especially now that he gave her warning, but what else could he mean? She peels the paper open and finds three quills. She smiles softly at them. "I still thank you."

"They're Sugar Quills," Lee beams. "The best part is, Fred and George helped me charm them so you can actually use them. You work so long on your essays sometimes you forget to eat—now you can just eat your quill!"

Hermione is touched, genuinely. "I love them," she tells him honestly. "Thank you."

"Alright, alright," Katie cuts in. "Ours next."

"You already know about The Weird Sisters album coming—once we get a Hogsmeade weekend, anyways," Angelina reminds her.

Alicia nods. She hands Hermione a neatly wrapped package. "But there's also these."

Hermione takes and opens the package. Inside she finds a scarf, a pair of mittens, thick wool socks, and a hat.

"A lot of us get our House gear sent to us from our parents—or sent with us if they're sure we're going to be in one House, that is," Alicia explains. "Luckily I'm really good at knitting; my mum taught me the Muggle way."

"I'm not as good," Katie grins. "But I still managed the scarf. Took me longer than Alicia took to make everything else, sure, but I think it's better than anything she made."

"Oi!" Alicia crows.

Katie sniggers and scoots away from the girl so she can continue, "we figure you have winter gear, but nothing for Gryffindor. It's a little early, but on such short notice, it was all we could do."

"I wrapped it," Angelina throws in. "I can't knit a bloody thing, but at least I can make it look good as a present."

Hermione tosses her head back to laugh. "I _love_ them. And I loved the wrapping, Ange. Thank you guys."

She's petting the scarf, admiring its softness, when a loud thud causes her to look up. There's another gift sitting in front of her. She looks at Fred, and then past him to George. They're smiling at her. "Our turn," they say in sync.

She takes her time to neatly fold the scarf back up, and piles the other accessories on top. She curls them back up in the paper they came in, and tucks them away in her bag.

She returns to the gift in front of her and eyes it warily. It… honestly, it looks like a book, but she's not quite sure how the twins could have gotten a book as a gift when there've been no Hogsmeade trips yet. She opens it slower than her other two gifts, wary of anything that could jump out at her.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, we aren't trying to prank you on your birthday!" George huffs.

"But—it looks like a _book_," Hermione frowns.

Alicia snorts. "She's got you there, boys. Any thing that puts you in contact with a book has got to be some sort of prank."

Fred rolls his eyes. "We became friends in the _library_," he argues.

She can't argue that. She tears in to the paper faster, now, until it falls apart to reveal a battered copy of _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_, a book George had mentioned days before and Hermione had said she'd love to read. Tears spring to her eyes against her best attempts to keep them down, and she runs her fingers over the cover while trying to blink them back.

After a few moments, she feels her eyes are clear enough to look up at the twins. Fred is staring at her nervously, and George looks excited. She throws her arms around Fred and pulls him in to a tight hug. "_Thank you_," she says passionately. She looks to George, then the rest of the table. "I can't reach any of you right now, but if I could, I'd be hugging all of you."

Fred chuckles and it vibrates deep in his chest. "Now, now," he teases as he runs a hand up and down her back, and with her ear pressed to his chest, she hears the words from where they start. "No need for the lies to cover up that I'm your favorite. We all already know that."

Hermione puffs out a breath and moves to pull away. Fred holds her tight to his chest. "Fred—"

"See?" he asks their friends. "She can't get enough." Hermione digs two fingers in to his side and he yelps, releasing her quick. She smirks up at him triumphantly. "Merlin, 'Mine, you play dirty."

"Not until someone else doesn't play fair, I don't."

Alicia looks immensely pleased. "We're never letting you go, Hermione."

She blushes and doesn't say anything in return. She studies the cover of the book, and flips through the first few pages.

"It's second hand," Fred murmurs while everyone else starts eating again. "We couldn't afford a new copy, but—"

"I love it," Hermione stops him. "It's perfect."

"I'm glad."

More people begin flooding in to the Hall nearly half an hour later, by which time Hermione is on her third chocolate chip waffle. Some people give her and her friends odd looks, including Harry and Ron. She's sure it's a scene to see, however. The twins and Lee are usually three of the last people to make it to breakfast, and Hermione is surrounded by torn wrapping paper, quills and a book, and winter gear.

Once nearly three quarters of the school were settled in, owls start swooping in. McGonagall had told her parents how to address any letters they wanted to send, as they didn't have an owl and sent it through the post, but Hermione was skeptical that she'd receive it.

She's happy to be proven wrong when a tawny owl floats down until it's hovering above her and drops a thick package. She smiles at the familiar loops of her mother's calligraphy, and doesn't hesitate before ripping in to the parcel. Several books topple out of the tear, and Fred rushes to catch them before the fall from the table. She thanks him but quickly turns back to the books. All of them seem to be by the same author.

She picks up the envelope the spilled out with the books, and opens it.

_Hermione,_

_ The happiest of birthdays to you! We're crushed to not be spending it with you, but we do hope your new school is treating you well. Have you made many friends? Have you learned much yet? Are you missing us yet? We went back and forth over whether you'd even remember us, what with all the wonders you described in your letter! (We hope you both remember and miss us, because we remember and miss you very much.) _

_ Over the summer I discovered a new series that I hadn't seen before. It seems like it's full of magic and adventures; perhaps you can compare them to your real life magic and adventures (hopefully none quite as dangerous as those you'll find in the books)! _

_ We do miss you, dear, and would love to hear from you soon. We even got treats for any more owls you send (that gray one wasn't all that happy with the biscuit we gave her), so send lots of them! We're also going out of our minds waiting to hear how it all holds up beyond your first day. We hope it's well, and we hope there are plenty of people who are able to see what a brilliant addition you are to that school. Write soon, daughter o'Mione. _

_ Love, _

_ Mum and Dad_

She places the letter to the side with a smile, and shuffles through the books. The others watch her gather them up.

"What's a scion?" George asks curiously.

"What's an _elfstone?_" adds Katie.

Angelina smirks and continues, "what's a wishsong?"

Fred reaches over and grabs the top book. "Blimey, you're concerned about all of those, but what in Merlin's name is a _sword?_"

Hermione laughs and snatches the book back. "I guess I'll have to read and find out what in Merlin's name a sword could possibly be."

Fred leans in to her space. He tilts his head, and she realizes he's looking at the letter from her parents. "Does… does that say 'daughter o'Mione'? That… is the greatest thing that today could have given me. Merlin, I love your parents."

"Oh no."

Fred looks at her, faux concern in his eyes. "What's wrong, friend o'Mione?"

"No."

"Oh, come off it, chum o'Mione, I'm just teasing, schoolmate o'Mione!"

Hermione glares. "Eventually you're going to run out of synonyms."

"Not soon enough for you, darling o'Mione."

"You can't branch off in to pet names like that."

Fred leans in close, grinning wide. "Show me the rule that says that, 'Mione o'Mione."

Hermione huffs. She reaches in to her bag and pulls out one of her ink-filled sugar quills and then tears a spare piece of wrapping paper from her parent's parcel. Fred is watching, smiling all the while.

"'_Terms of endearment may not precede "o'Mione" in a given nickname_,'" Hermione recites as she writes.

"Darling doesn't _have_ to be a term of endearment," Fred argues. "Neither does love, pet, sweetheart—"

"'_The nickname "'Mione" may not precede "o'Mione" in a given nickname_,'" she continues.

"No!" Lee shouts suddenly, eyes stuck on the piece of paper as she writes. Hermione looks up wide-eyed. Everyone is staring at her and Fred. "'Mione o'Mione is my favorite, c'mon Herms."

She crosses the rule out as she grimaces. "I'm only taking that rule off because I prefer it over _Herms_. I take that rule off, there's no more Herms, deal?"

Lee whoops victoriously, thrusting his fists in the air. George cheers as well. Angelina shakes her head. "Shouldn't have given him that. Now they're going to push for more."

"I won't let them," she states. "I can out stubborn them any day."

"That a challenge, darling o'Mione?" Fred asks, quirking an eyebrow up.

Hermione ignores him and goes back to writing her rules. "'_Sweet Child may not precede "o'Mione" in a given nickname_,'" she adds.

"Sweet child?" Katie wonders, confused.

"Sweet Child of Mine is a Muggle song."

"Sing it for us, sweet child o'Mione," Fred prompts.

"'_Failure to comply with these rules may result in punishment ranging from non-responsiveness from Hermione to harmless but humiliating jinxes._'"

Alicia cackles as she watches Hermione write the last rule. "I can help you with the harmless but humiliating jinxes should you ever need help."

"Wouldn't that be better left to us?" George quirks an eyebrow, and there's a smile on his face.

"Not if I'm going to be using them on you," Hermione counters. "And I have a feeling I'm _only_ going to be using them on you. I'd like you to be surprised." She turns to Alicia. "I'll certainly take you up on that."

"Gred? Does the back of your neck feel cold?"

George grimaces. "I think that's the fear, Forge."

Hermione smiles politely, trying to hide the pride she feels. "I've got to run this all up to my room before classes, if you all don't mind. See you at lunch?"

Alicia grins, wide and mirth filled. "See you then, friend o'Mione."

*\

Time gets lost between studying and her friends all at Quidditch practice. There's Lee that she could seek out, but she thinks he's her friend more because all of his friends, rather than actually wanting to be friends with her. Maybe that's a little harsh to assume, but she doesn't want to go where she's not wanted, so she gives him space, only seeking him out when Quidditch practice goes over and they're both waiting on their friends.

They get closer in that time, but never quite as close as she is with the rest of the group, and never quite as close as she wishes they could be. She thinks it's something they need to work on, but it can be put aside for their next four and a half years at school together, that way they don't try and force it.

She grows closer still with the twins, and finds her friendship with Alicia growing faster and stronger that even her friendships with Katie and Angelina. There's something about the older girl—she feels an almost familial bond with her.

That doesn't stop her from realizing its all either fake or pity once Ron points it out—she's a nightmare. She's got no friends.

"Granger!" a familiar voice calls from behind her. She doesn't stop—doesn't even slow down. She needs to be alone, needs to get away.

"Oi! Hey!" the voice calls again, and it's closer, along with the pounding footsteps.

Before she can decide if she wants to take off running, someone grabs her upper arm and spins her around. She looks down to the ground and resists wiping her eyes. They're too tall to see her eyes if she's staring at the ground. Wiping them away will only bring their attention to it and then they'll know for sure that she's crying.

"What's wrong?" the voice asks, and she can't pick it apart, can't tell if it's Fred or George and she's so frustrated by that—

"'Mine?" another, nearly identical voice comes from further away, but it's softer, gentler. It's how Fred talks to her sometimes, with that stupid nickname he's started using, when he's tired or confused or trying to bring her comfort.

"What?" she snaps, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Fred's footsteps get closer, and George is still gripping her arm. When Fred reaches her, he grabs her chin and tilts it up, forcing her to face him. His eyes look sad. "Merlin, 'Mine, what—"

"None of your concern," she tells them.

The sadness in Fred's eyes turns to anger and George's hand tightens on her arm. "None of our concern? Bloody hell, Hermione, you're our friend, what hurts you _is_ our concern," George says.

Hermione snorts and jerks out of both of their grips quickly. "That's brilliant, isn't it? That you're my _friends_. That _you_ two are friends with _me_, a know-it-all _nightmare_. Sure you are, because I'm the person that you guys befriend, is that it?" She looks between them, but doesn't give them a chance to answer. "No. I'm the person you guys make fun of behind my back. I'm the person you guys _can't stand_. So it's either pity or a… _ruse_. And I'm not okay with either."

She spins and stalks away from them. Just to make sure they don't trail her, she turns the first corner she sees, and then the next, and then the next. She finds a girls' bathroom then and ducks inside. It's deserted for now, so she curls up in one of the stalls and lets her tears fall.

She loses track of time; only Parvati tries talking her out, but Hermione asks that she be left alone. Parvati sighs but leaves nonetheless.

Battling a troll was not on her agenda—ever. That's part of the reason that she loses any coherent thoughts when she realizes the door is locked from the outside (the other part is that the troll is _huge_ and she is _tiny_), watching as it stomps towards her as she screams and rushes to the other side of the room, swinging its club all the while. She catches a piece of porcelain that flies from a sink to her shoulder, and thinks: _this is it. This is how I die. I'd rather be expelled._

Harry and Ron come bursting in, wands drawn and shouting. They came with the knowledge that they'd be facing the beast. She appreciates that, to say the least, even if she's too shaken to do much to help them out. They manage perfectly fine without her, thankfully.

So she lies to Professor McGonagall and takes the slash in House Points, and heads for the common room. She can see her friends (her _friends!_ she reminds herself, feeling ashamed for how she had treated them this afternoon) eyeing her warily from a corner of the room, and she realizes the twins must have told the others what had happened earlier. She smiles at them and holds up a finger, letting them know she'll be over soon.

It's not too much longer before Ron and Harry enter through the portrait hole. It's awkward, the three of them standing there and looking everywhere but each other. She thanks them, and they thank her (though she's not sure why), and then she takes her leave to get dinner that's been set up along one wall of the common room.

When her plate is full of food, she moves over to sit next to Fred on the floor. "What happened?" he asks. He is looking at her tentatively, eyeing the poor state of her robes, and George, leaning around his brother, is looking at her expectantly.

She grimaces. "They just helped me beat a troll."

"_What?_" Fred snaps, eyes going wide. He puts his plate on the ground and turns his body so he's facing her fully. He grabs her chin, much like he did earlier, and starts turning her head to examine her features. "You're okay, right?" he presses after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes, _Mum_," she grunts, her words dripping with sarcasm.

He's seemingly satisfied with the lack of damage to her face and her answer that she was fine, but he still gives the rest of her body a once over. He pauses on her left shoulder. He reaches out. "What's this, then?"

She looks down to his hand where it's lifting up a shredded piece of fabric, the one she had cleaned on her way back to the common room—the one that she knows is hiding a bloodied and bruised shoulder. "It probably just got torn in the fight." Fred doesn't look like he believes her but the conversation moves on before he can press for more information.

"What were you doing taking on the troll?" Katie asks. Her voice sounds worried.

"I wasn't," Hermione shrugs. "I was in the bathroom and then… there was a troll. I'd probably be dead if they hadn't shown up."

"I don't believe that," Alicia scoffs. "You can do much more than those boys."

"Well. I was rather surprised by it—I froze. I didn't really do much apart from maybe keep its attention away from them? And, well. Harry had to stick his wand up its nose and I—I'm just lucky they showed up."

"What were you doing down there, anyway? Why weren't you at dinner?" Lee wonders.

Hermione glances at Fred and George out of the corner of her eyes. They're both watching her intensely. "I was running away from these two?" she tries, with a nod at the twins.

"That was _four bloody hours ago_," George says.

Hermione nods. "I just… stayed there."

"Gonna tell us what it was about?" Fred asks, referring to her running away.

"Yeah," Katie says in agreement. "They said you were crying? Why didn't you get me or Alicia or even Angelina if you didn't want to talk to them?"

"Er—well. It wasn't _them_. It was everyone, really."

Lee drops his jaw. "What did _I_ do?"

Alicia is frowning next to him as well.

"No one did anything. Someone just… said something. It reminded me of primary—that's my old school. I took it out on Fred and George, but I wasn't going to take lightly to anyone," she explains. She turns to the twins. "I'm sorry."

"Who?" Fred asks.

She blinks. "What?"

"Who said something?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I'm not telling you that."

"Why?" George demands.

"Because it's not important."

"Hermione," Alicia says, voice hard, "it's not right that you deal with this alone. We're you're friends, we can—"

"As my friends can you just… accept that it's been handled?"

"No," Lee answers easily. "If it wasn't handled the last time you saw Fred and George, and you've been hiding since then—"

"Ron," George realizes.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Yes, okay, Ron and I don't get along, and he said something upsetting. But he just saved my life, if you'll all please rememb—"

Fred cuts her off. "What did he say?"

Hermione shakes her head. "No. I'm not telling you."

"I reckon it must've been something about her not having friends and being a know-it-all nightmare," George concludes. "Well, Freddie, we haven't spent nearly enough time with our dear Ickle Ronnikins lately, perhaps we should pay him a visit?"

"Do _not_," Hermione snaps, nearly toppling her plate over as she reaches out to clutch their robes in her fists. "I might finally have a truce with him and I don't think he even realizes I'm friends with you. I will not have you ruin it and have him hate me all over again for turning his brothers against him or something painfully stupid like that."

"She's right," Alicia says with a grimace. "As much as I'd like to hex him into next week for making her cry, I think that little greeting they just had by the door is the most civil I've ever seen them with each other."

Fred doesn't look happy about that conclusion, but he seems to accept it.

*\

She spends much of her time studying with Alicia in the common room, sometimes joined by others, sometimes just the two of them, and getting closer with Ron and Harry. Harry mostly, since her friendship with Ron seems to be entirely based on the fact that they're both Harry's friends and he no longer hates her, but she _thinks_ he's warming up to her more and more each day.

She's sitting in the common room Friday morning with Alicia, up early to get a head start on her readings for the weekend. They're waiting for the others to wake up when a rumbling comes from the boys' dormitory steps.

"_Are you ready?_" George shouts, rushing down the final few steps.

Hermione blinks. "Ready for what?"

"'_Ready for what?_' she asks," Lee gasps, hand clutching at his chest dramatically.

Fred jumps off the stairs where he had been moments before, on to George's back. "First Quidditch game of the season tomorrow!"

Alicia whoops and jumps out of the seat she'd been in next to Hermione, who shifts awkwardly in her seat. She had almost forgotten that she was the only one who didn't seem to be obsessed with Quidditch. She turns back to her books, and tries to drown them out.

"Hermione!" George whines at her lack of response, as he balances Fred's weight on his back. "Aren't you excited?"

She grimaces. "Not really."

"_What?_" Fred shrieks. "What do you _mean_ not really?"

She looks between the twins and Alicia, who all look equally as shocked. She hears others filtering in the room, and hears George frantically tell Angelina and Katie that Hermione isn't excited for the Quidditch match.

"I've never seen a game, and I don't really care for sports, muggle or wizard."

"But… but…"

A jolt of fear runs through her. Is this it? Is _this_ going to be what make these people back out of their friendship? It's been odd enough that this group of people that seem so revered at this school have latched on to her despite being older and sharing very few initial interests, but now finding out that she doesn't like _Quidditch_—a large part of the glue that holds this group of friends together—is that too much for them?

"You'll still come to cheer us on, though?" Alicia asks, wary. Not wary about Hermione not liking Quidditch, wary about Hermione not being there to support them. Relief rushes through Hermione so quickly she can feel it in her toes.

She nods. "Of course. My best friends make up almost the entire team—get me an in with Oliver and I may as well be your mascot. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

George grins. "And by the world you mean extra studying time, don't you, 'Mine?"

"Oi!" Fred frowns, glaring at his twin. He slides off of George's back and lands on his feet with a _thud_. "'Mine is _mine_, get your own nickname."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "There will be no monopolies on nicknames."

Fred turns to her. "There will be on 'Mine."

"Fredrick."

"'Mine."

"You need to learn to share."

"I know how to share!"

Alicia scoffs and falls in to the seat next to Hermione. "Sure you do," she says.

Fred pouts. "I grew up with a _twin_, I only own half of what I own!"

Hermione resists the urge to drop her head to the table. "That's not how that works."

"Trust me, that's how it works." George says.

"Also five siblings!" Fred hurries to add.

Hermione looks at Alicia. They shrug. "You still don't have full control over a name that anyone can call me."

"Yes I do," he says. "If you can make up the o'Mione rules, I can make up the 'Mine rules. 'Mine is mine. If not, the o'Mione rules are no more."

"Fred!"

He raises an eyebrow, challenging.

She submits (because really, she's added more rules to the o'Mione rules since their creation and she doesn't know if she could take it if Fred threw those out the window), but not before glaring. "You're an arse."

"Hermione!" George gasps, dropping his jaw, laughing giddily. Alicia barks out a laugh from beside her, and Hermione blushes. Fred grins, wide—_victorious_.

*\

"Did Harry ever tell you what the bloody hell he was doing?" Angelina demands as soon as Hermione sits down for breakfast Sunday morning. "He didn't say much after the match, but that might have been because Oliver was alternating between yelling curses at whatever he was doing and praises at him catching the Snitch."

"It wasn't Harry," Hermione says. "Professor Snape was jinxing him."

"What?" Katie gasps. "But… how do you know? Why did he stop?"

"I saw him. He was staring at Harry muttering something. I set him on fire."

"_What?_" Fred, George, and Lee all cry out.

"Tell me you're being serious—that this isn't just a joke," Lee pleas.

"I'm serious. Just ask Ron. He doesn't like me enough yet to lie for me."

"Oh, my poor old heart can't take this," Fred says, clutching his chest.

"You're thirteen," Hermione scoffs, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing old about you."

"I'm a twin, Combined we're twenty-six years old."

"That's still not old, and that's still not how it works."

"We have twenty-six combined years of life experience how does that _not_ work Granger?" George huffs.

"You two have gone through almost everything together. You've got the exact same experiences."

"That's debatable but we're getting off track, here," Fred says. "You set Snape on _fire?_"

"Not so loud!"

"Blimey, I think I'm in love," George breathes.

Lee scowls. "Who did Snape just fail because he _felt like it?_ Me. She's mine."

"She likes me best," Fred says. "And I'm the one sitting next to her, so—"

Hermione is tugged to the side into someone's arms, but it's not Fred. She laughs as she hears Alicia threaten the boys about not pissing on her like she's something to be claimed. When Alicia releases her, the boys all look suitably threatened, but Fred still quirks an eyebrow at her and smirks.

Hermione's stomach rolls. She looks at her plate, which is still very full, and thinks she must just be very hungry. She tucks in to her breakfast and away in a book for the remainder of breakfast.

*\

"Hey, 'Mine," Fred calls as she's walking through the courtyard later that day. She's promised to help Ron and Harry with their potions essays and is on her way to them from sending her parents an owl. She slows and turns to face Fred. George is right beside him, which is no surprise. "D'you know any targeting spells? We, uh, have a self-propelling spell for something, but it lands way off and none of our books we have right now have a targeting spell."

She narrows her eyes. "What is the _something?_"

"Nothing _bad_. Just… for a snowball fight?" George says.

She rolls her eyes. "We do have snowball fights as muggles as well, I'm not against them! Let me get back to you at dinner." She turns away but thinks—Fred and George read a fair amount... _Maybe_… "Have you two ever heard of Nicolas Flamel?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. Just someone I read about once that I can't find anymore information on, but I can't quite remember where, or what he's even done," she lies. "It's nothing. I've got to go help your brother with an essay on the known uses of Asphodel. Mind you, the essay is due _tomorrow_—"

George grins. "Better hurry along then."

Fred smiles. "Dinner?"

"Dinner," Hermione nods. "I'll see if I can have that targeting spell for you two."

"Thank you!" they call before walking off. She does the same, and then freezes.

"If you two _dare_ use it on _me_ I'm never helping you again!"

"We would never!"

*\

Christmas break passes fairly quickly. There are more presents under the tree than ever, and she's sure her neighbors must be confused about the abundance of owls on Christmas Day (one from the twins, Harry and Ron, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and even Lee).

Returning from break is a whirlwind. Harry's been reckless going around looking for magic mirrors and she can't _believe_ him, but in the end they do find Nicolas Flamel and discover the Sorcerer's Stone.

She's thrilled when they find it, and she's tempted to run off and tell Fred and George and Alicia about it right then, but she knows she can't—not when Professor Snape is trying to steal it, not when Professor Dumbledore has gone to such great lengths to protect it, not when it's so dangerous, not when this has more to do with Harry than her and she won't put him at risk. So she tucks the book away again and smiles at her friends and tells them about her classes, and doesn't mention a thing about immortality, or alchemy, or three-headed dogs guarding trapdoors.

*\

A hand reaches out, snagging a piece of already buttered toast from her plate. She twists in her seat and scowls. "Fred!"

The table falls silent.

"I think this is the first time I've ever seen Hermione mistake George for Fred," Lee says, staring at Hermione. "Are you tired? Unwell? Did they do something to upset you?"

Alicia frowns, her face tight as though she's thinking hard. "I think that _is_ the first time she's ever mistaken either of them for the other."

Hermione looks at the twin next to her. "What? That—you're? This is Fred."

Fred stares at her for a long moment, and then his face breaks in to a wide grin. He looks to George and Hermione sees George looking at her with raised eyebrows as well. "How could you tell?" George wonders.

"_What?_" Katie yells.

Hermione's eyes flick to the others at the table. They're all either staring at her or studying the twins intensely. "There are a few physical differences, but I don't go off those as much. You can cover those up or spell them away, but you can't change your mannerisms or the way you carry yourselves for the most part."

"Like what?" George asks, his voice full of curiosity.

She studies the two of them. "You _tried_ to mix everyone up today!" she accuses. "You covered up your mole with your sweater and switched how you wore your robes, which is the most obvious to everyone else!"

"Well—"

"I'm not going to tell you," she says, shaking her head. "I'm not going to tell you how I know who is who, because I'm not going to let you try and trick me as your idea of a prank one day. You've whined that so few people can tell you apart, and then you go and play this joke on the people who put in the effort?"

"'Mione—"

"Why?"

They share a look. "Social experiment? It's not a prank," George says, "and we wouldn't ever use it against anyone. It was more so to see if there was anyone who could tell. Being a twin gets frustrating some times, and there's nothing wrong with the cues people have come to rely on—we appreciate that they've made any effort at all to differentiate us, because most professors just call us 'Mr. Weasley.' A lot of people in the school can't even tell us apart by our robes, mostly because they don't care enough to learn even though we wear them purposefully different. We just wanted to see if anyone could tell beyond the two most obvious physical differences."

Fred nods. "It wasn't to be rude."

Hermione sighs. "I won't list everything, but there are some things… Fred is louder. He usually talks first. George slouches a bit more and he smiles more than he smirks, while Fred is the opposite." She looks to the others. "_You_ four… I will fill in on their differences later."

"That doesn't seem fair," Fred pouts.

"Oh, it's more than fair," Angelina says glaring between the twins. "I can't believe you're still doing this!"

"We've done it _twice!_" George defends. "Once was because I was failing Astronomy and Fred sat the exam for me and we didn't want anyone mucking it up for us."

Hermione gasps. "You didn't!"

"Oh, we did. Almost had matching marks for the term after I failed his exam for him, too."

"We're never going to use Astronomy," Fred shrugs, "he just had to get a mark high enough to pass the year."

"How did I end up friends with the likes of you two?" she groans, dropping her head to her hands.

Alicia cackles. "We ask ourselves that every day. Luckily, they seem to have more redeeming qualities than condemning."

"Are we sure about that?"

Katie laughs. "To be determined, but so far, yeah."

"We're _right here_, you know?"

"Oh, shut up, Gred," Lee says. He pauses, looks up. "I'm so sorry; you _are_ Gred, aren't you?"

The group breaks in to laughter, save for the twins who roll their eyes at their friends, but still break out in to grins.

*\

Alicia waves at the boys' dormitory steps from across the room and Hermione takes that as her cue. She activates the _sonorous _charm and steps forward. "Happy birthday!"

"Ahh!" Fred shouts, jumping away from Hermione's amplified voice. "Bloody hell, 'Mine! Are you trying to make this birthday my last? My heart isn't as strong as it used to be!"

She rolls her eyes, tapping her throat to take the spell off. She looks to the steps, nearly falling to her knees when she sees George sprawled across them. She laughs and laughs and laughs, unable to control herself. The girls join her and Angelina throws an arm around her shoulders to help keep her standing. "The only thing I regret in this is that you didn't get to see their faces."

That only makes Hermione laugh harder.

"Yeah, yeah," George says, getting to his feet. "Are we going to breakfast or what?"

"Where's Lee?" Fred asks.

"Upstairs, probably," Katie says. "We warned him what we were going to do and he told us to send one of you up for him after."

The twins look at each other, and then call up the stairs. "_Traitor!_"

Lee pops out. "Oh, is it over? Can I come down now? Morning, everyone!"

*\

"What d'you think happened there?" Angelina nods at the hourglass, indicating the absence of the 150 points Gryffindor had lost last night (while Harry and Harmione secretly were trying to actually save a dragon's life and groundskeeper's job, thank you very much). Hermione groans and buries her face in her hands. "'Mione?"

"Got to be a mistake, doesn't it?" Katie shrugs.

Hermione groans again.

"Hermione?" Alicia murmurs, shaking her shoulder.

She lifts her head and starts packing her bag. "I'm so sorry." She pushes herself up from the table and moves to leave, but Alicia catches her wrist.

"Sorry for what?"

"For _that_," she snaps, flicking her eyes to the hourglass. She yanks her wrist from Alicia's hand. "I'm _so_ sorry, alright?" her eyes start to brim with tears because she _is_ sorry and she made a _terrible_ mistake and she really does need to leave before—

"Morning!" an overly familiar voice chimes.

Oh no.

"I need to go," Hermione mutters, rushing from the Hall.

She hears the twins and Lee questioning the girls. She can't stick around to hear the answers.

*\

"What did Harry do?"

Hermione looks up. She'd retreated to the library to get some form of peace during breakfast. She's not sure how long it's been, but she shouldn't be surprised that Fred and George have found her. She _isn't_ surprised really. She's just a bit confused, especially with that opening line. Fred is standing there, hands pressed against the table as he leans his full weight on to them. The heels of his hands are turning a pale white. His fingers are still. It's a stark contrast to their first encounter in the library, at this same table so many months ago. George stands behind him at his full height, arms crossed over his chest.

Hermione stares. "What?"

"It's going around that Harry, Neville, and _you_ are the reason we lost the points. There's no way you'd do anything to lose points like that, so what did Harry—"

"Don't be so sure," she snaps.

Fred scoffs. "You whined when you lost _five_ points, you think I'll believe you were _willingly_ a part of—"

"Considering I'm never an _unwilling_ participant because I can fight my own battles, _yes_. I'm not a child, nor am I a push over, nor am I an idiot. Don't blame my friends for my mistakes."

George narrows his eyes. "You still haven't said what you've done. I'm willing to wager it wasn't your mistake to make."

"I haven't said because it's not your concern."

"No—" Fred shakes his head. He moves so he's stood up straight and comes around the table to sit next to her book. "No. See, the last time you said that, you locked yourself in a bathroom for hours and ended up fighting a troll. I'm not about to have you go off an fight a dragon now."

Hermione has to hide her face so they can't see the quirk of her lips. "Then it's too bad that you can't force me to tell you anything, because I'm not saying a word."

"'Mione," George says warningly.

"No."

"_'Mine_," Fred says harshly. "Talk to us. We're you're friends."

"So is Harry, believe it or not. There was a misunderstanding but we couldn't tell McGonagall the truth, because a _lot_ more people would have been in trouble, okay? That's all I'm going to tell you."

"Hermione—"

"_Would you stop!_" she hisses. "I'm _not_ going to tell you, not now at the very least, and I'd actually like to get some studying done. So if _you're_ not going to leave, _I_ am."

George looks at Fred. "C'mon, Freddie."

Fred glares, nostrils flaring.

"Fred," George whispers, giving Hermione a sad look.

Fred waits another moment, and then shoves himself away from the table at last.

They don't find her for the rest of the term, and she doesn't find them.

*\

"He's worried about you, you know?" Alicia sighs. "George tries to keep him in line but I think he feels responsible for you."

"Well, he's not," Hermione says.

"No," Alicia says. "He's not. But he cares. We all do. You're our friend, Hermione. You're the twins' closest friend beyond Lee. And your other best friend is The Boy Who Lived, who doesn't have the best track record and has already gotten you in to some pretty sticky situations that could have had some serious repercussions. You've taken the fall for him more than you should already."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Not you too. I got _myself_ in to those situations. I'd do it again. I'd hope for different results, but I don't regret what I've prevented."

"I'm not saying anything against that, 'Mione. I'm just saying that we care, so we're going to get scared, and worried, and upset, and even angry," she explains. "It doesn't mean we're against you or Harry—or that we don't think Harry is a good friend. It just means you're our priority."

*\

"You _stupid_ girl," a voice hisses, pulling her backwards into a hug. She recognizes both the voice and the hold as Alicia.

Hermione laughs. She pries the arms from around her neck and turns to face her friend. "I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you, but I couldn't _not_ help Harry."

"You can _always_ tell me, Hermione," she says seriously. "I know there are times that I won't like it or that I'll think it's dangerous and will want to go to a professor, but I trust you. I want you to know that you can always trust me, okay?"

Hermione smiles. "Thank you."

Angelina, Katie, and Lee are standing behind Alicia, and Hermione turns to them. Angelina and Katie both move in to hug her at the same time. "We were so worried when we woke up to the news this morning. Hearing that Harry and Ron were in the infirmary and you weren't in your dorm and—"

"I'm fine."

"Fred and George have words for you," Lee smirks from the back of the group. "They're with Ron right now, but they're not happy."

Hermione sighs. "I wasn't expecting them to be. Thanks for the warning, anyways."

"Best not to avoid them too long," he advises.

"I was headed back to Harry and Ron after I got breakfast, so I'm sure I'll run in to them."

"No need," a new voice enters. Hermione whips her head around to find the twins. Both of them are stony faced, but she's just—_oh_, she's just so relieved to be in their presence again.

She leaps up and runs, colliding with both of them. They each wrap an arm around her, and she struggles to get an arm around each of them—struggles to hold them as close as she longs to. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what was going on. It's not my business to tell."

"The moment he dragged you in to it it became your business to tell," George says.

"He didn't drag—"

Fred squeezes her to his body. "Yeah, yeah. You can still tell us. Where you're involved, we'll help you out. Trust us."

"And Ron."

"Sometimes Ron," he says, teasingly. "Always you."

Hermione rolls her eyes and pulls away. She looks up to both of them. They're staring down at her with… relief? "You're one of my best mates, 'Mione," George says. "But you're so bloody _stupid_. Don't you dare put yourself or my brother at risk like that again."

"At least not without telling us," Fred adds. "So then we can help."

"No!" Alicia calls. "No stupidity allowed at all! I like my friends _alive!_"

"I _am_ alive!" Hermione argues.

Each of them laughs—laughs filled will joy and relief and mirth and contentment. They'd be going home in three day and separated for weeks on end, but they are where they belonged for now, and are armed with the knowledge that they'll be returning come September to this family they belong to.

* * *

_Thank you sincerely for giving this a chance. I hope this does each character justice over the story we're about to take. Any comments are genuinely loved and feedback would be appreciated. I am very American so Britpicking is more than welcome!_


	2. she looks into the mirror (so loud)

_Hello, back again! I absolutely adore all of you, and I cannot thank you enough for the kind words. I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far, and I hope I can live up to any expectations you've got! _

_This chapter was by far the hardest for me to write. I don't know why but I did not like it, and I apologize if it's completely awful. I sincerely hope it is not, but it was SO tough, so hopefully it goes over well. _

* * *

_**book ii.**_

_Fred and George, _

_ I do hope this finds you. This is Poppy—she's a rental owl from the owl office near me. She's slow, but cheap. I'm truly hoping cheap doesn't mean she can't still find her way around. I have her for the summer. Harry and Angelina have their own owls, and Katie said her mum has one she uses, so I'll be sending Poppy between the Burrow and Alicia mainly. I don't think Lee is too interested in hearing from me. I might send him a letter just to let him know I haven't forgotten him, do you think he would appreciate that? I don't know him well enough; I would hate to bug him! _

_ The first week of summer has been terribly boring. I'm sure you've guessed I've never been popular, so all the friends I do have are all in the wizarding world. I've been hearing a lot of horror stories about root canals. Please, for the love of Merlin, brush your teeth. I don't know what Madam Pomfrey or St. Mungos can do for an infected tooth, but in the Muggle world, it's not so much fun as a wave of a wand. _

_ My parents got me some advanced spell books. There are spells in here I will not be able to do for years (it feels like I won't ever be able to do them), but I'm excited to try some when we get back to school. _

_ I'm going to take the first half of the summer as a break before I start reading next term's materials, so I'm going to ask my parents to bring me back to London to pick up a few more books for extra reading over the weekend. Maybe some potions or healing? _

_ How have you two been? I miss you! _

_ Love from _

_ Hermione _

*\

_'Mine, _

_ Hopefully since you sent that letter you've gotten some more books and summer is treating you well. George and I have started experimenting on our own line of prank items. If you're wondering how that's going, currently, I only have one eyebrow. We were going for a firework, but after we realized how large an explosion our mess up had created, we've decided to hold off on that for a while until we're not at risk of blowing up our entire house. _

_ Lee never has much to say in his letters even to us, but we can write him saying you've said hello so dear ol' Poppy here doesn't have to make another trip. Errol, our family's owl, is even slower and older than Pops, so it'll be good for him to get out and stretch his wings. _

_ What is a root canal? How does a root relate to a canal and how do either thing relate to an infected tooth? Do I want to know? If you're calling them horror stories I don't know if I want to know. (George wants to know.) _

_ I don't think there's a spell in existence that you couldn't do eventually if you didn't want to. You got top marks in your year and there are some bloody brilliant students in your year with you. None that necessarily share your House (though that Sophie doesn't seem completely helpless), but some of the other Houses have some brains in them. Normally I'd be bitter about that, but I'm not since Gryffindor has you and that's the real victory. _

_ If only George and I had our Apparition license, we could have met you at Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, when we showed up to take it, they threw us out. We'll see you soon. _

_ Cheers, _

_ Fred_

*\

_ Fred, _

_ Oh wow, can't believe I missed your birthdays! Three of them at that! You're seventeen and already off to take your Apparition exam. How time flies. Please forgive me for the lack of gifts; I hope you'll remember the ones I'd just given you in April. _

_ I have gotten some much more interesting books! There's one on Magical Theory I think you'd really find quite interesting and it might help with your inventions. I'll bring it with me this term to lend it to you. Maybe your eyebrow will be back by then. We can hope, at least. _

_ I don't think I want to tell you what a root canal is. (Sorry, George. Maybe another time.) You seem so excited about dentistry and I don't want to ruin that for you. Or make you scared of my parents. Just be glad you're not a Muggle. With you're eating habits, you probably would have needed one eventually. _

_ You know what's funny? I don't think there's a spell in existence that you and George couldn't do either. I think you two are more towards the middle or lower portion of your class. What does my class standing have anything to do with it? Some of these are __really__ advanced magic. They seem so far off. I guess I can see you two doing them because you continuously impress me (don't let that do to your head), but I can't see myself doing anything more than Hogwarts: Year 2. _

_ It's been over a month and a half and I've still heard nothing from Harry. Do you know if he is upset with me? Has Ron not heard from him either? I've asked Ron, but—oh, I'm getting __so__ worried. _

_ I don't care if he's angry with me and not writing, if that's the case, just let me know so I know he's safe. _

_ Due to your nickname for me, I feel an appropriate sign-off might be: _

_ Yours, _

_ Hermione_

*\

_Hermione, _

_ Ron and the twins got me from my aunt and uncle's house. I'm staying at the Burrow for the rest of break. _

_ My uncle locked me and Hedwig up for the summer, so we couldn't write, or get letters. _

_When are you going to be in Diagon Alley for school supplies? _

_Harry _

*\

_Harry,_

_ I'm so glad to hear from you! You'll have to tell me all about it when we meet. _

_ My parents are both off of work the 19__th__ and we'll be heading to London then. Feel free to join us. _

_ Love from, _

_ Hermione_

*\

_'Mine, _

_ We're still trying to get through all the sweets you gave us for our birthday, and the spell theory book is actually why we started working on our fireworks, so we won't forget them any time soon. You'll owe us at some point. _

_ George requests you explain the root canal to him, I don't want to be there when you do. Too late, I'm scared of your parents. Please don't tell them. They might give me a root canal if they know. _

_ You underestimate yourself and I don't appreciate it. You're the most brilliant person I know which is bloody terrifying considering your age. You'll only get better. That compliment is totally going to our heads, by the way. We continuously impress you and we're never going to let you forget it. (Does that mean we have to continue continuously impressing you? Seems like a lot of pressure.) _

_ We've not heard from Harry either. We're probably going to do something stupid, but we're doing it in the name of friendship and family. If you never hear from us again, Mum probably murdered us. _

_ Shall we succeed, we'll make sure he sends Hedwig and she will probably find you before Poppy does. _

_ Wish us luck. _

_ Also yours (because it seems unfair if I'm not yours as well), _

_ Fred _

*\

Poppy is too slow to get a letter back and forth between herself and the twins before they were due to meet up, and Alicia and Hermione have started relaying their letters through Angelina and Katie since Clement (Angelina's owl) and Amber (Katie's mum's owl) are much faster, so Hermione dismisses the owl with a treat and a sack full of the payment due. She scowls at the last letter she'd gotten; loathe to think of what they might have done to rescue Harry from his family's home.

She debates heading to the Owl Office to rent a faster owl so she can get her answers sooner (she's impatient and two weeks is a long time), but she knows some where in the back of her mind that's irrational.

She can handle this.

*\

Ten days later, Hedwig is at her window and she flies to open it.

*\

_Hermione, _

_ Fred and George and want to know if Poppy is okay. _

_ Ron and I don't know what this is about, but they seemed serious. If it is a prank, please remember we are innocent. _

_ Harry _

*\

Hermione grumbles to herself. Maybe she should have sent Poppy back, or another owl. She could have afforded it, she thinks. She wanted answers; she just also wanted to show restraint. Was this now something she could hold over their heads? She is going to, either way.

She pulls out a piece of parchment, a quill, hands Hedwig a treat, and sets out to reply.

*\

_Harry, _

_ Tell them Poppy is fine, she's back home. It didn't seem worth the time or money to send her back to them when I'll be seeing them soon to hear whether or not their mum murdered them or not for rescuing you. I'm assuming not if they're asking about Poppy. _

_ Please tell them I'll speak to them in London, and that Poppy is home, resting for once. _

_ Love from _

_ Hermione _

*\

The days pass quick after that. Mainly because she feels like she's counting down by the hour.

Before she can fully comprehend, she's making her way down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts. They've just made it to the top of the steps when she sees Hagrid. She smiles, and then her eyes fall to the small boy next to him. She yells a warning to her parents before running down to meet her friend, greeting him. Shortly after, the Weasley's (sans Molly and Ginny) ran down the street to meet them as well. Mr. Weasley looks supremely relieved, and George tosses a wink at Hermione, which she doesn't quite understand, but laughs at nonetheless.

After another minute or so, everyone is caught up with everyone, and Mr. Weasley snatches her dad away to climb the steps to Gringotts. Fred bounces up next to Hermione and her mum. "Mrs. Granger!" he grins. "Big fan, I'm Fred Weasley, a friend of Hermione's."

"Oh?" her mum smiles. "What exactly are you a fan of?"

"Your nick names," George cuts in from the other side. "Of the o'Mione variety in particular. I might also be a fan of your dentistry work, that's yet to be determined, 'Mione has been holding out on me. Hello. George Weasley here."

"Oh. You're the twins."

Fred and George look at each other and widen their eyes. "Blimey! Why did no one ever tell us?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Yes, Mum, they're the twins. If you remember, I might have mentioned once or twice they can be a bit much."

"Oi!" George calls. "I'm hurt!"

"I demand we screen all outgoing letters written by you from here on out. We've got to keep these lies from spreading," Fred says.

"A lot much," her mum says, not trying to keep them from hearing at all. Both of them yell in mock outrage.

"Oh, boys! Keep it down!" Mrs. Weasley scolds Fred and George, pulling Ginny along (who is sprinting to keep up with her mother's large steps), and now only Ron and Harry are left hurrying to catch up. "I'm so sorry; these two aren't so poorly behaved normally. You don't bug this poor girl like this at school, do you?"

"Oh, Molly," her mum laughs, "it's fine, I was giving them a hard time. These two helped my daughter very much last school year. I'm very glad she met them and has friends like them. You have nothing to apologize for."

Mrs. Weasley frowns, confusion evident on her face. "Oh. I'm glad to hear that."

"And Ron, as well. He may have come along later but him and Harry being in her classes with her was a big relief. She's always been so far ahead of everyone her age, I was worried she'd never make any friends."

"Gee, thanks mum."

"That wasn't a secret," she teases lightly, because it wasn't, and the twins know it, and well, anyone who _knows_ Hermione probably knows it. It was something that they worked on with her old primary schools with no luck, and that she'd cried many tears over, until it hadn't been worth her tears anymore. Hogwarts has been a complete blessing. Her friends have been a complete blessing.

Though her mum had been teasing, the twins still look to her to see that she's okay while Molly yells back to Ron and Harry to hurry up, and her mum doesn't miss it. She nods at them, and they rush into the bank behind their dad.

Ron and Harry come running up the steps and smile at Hermione and her mum. They introduce themselves to her parents as they all enter the bank. Once they part so the Weasleys' and Harry can go to their vaults, her mum wraps an arm around her. "You've found some good people, daughter o'Mione."

Her dad frowns down at her. "Hermione, what technology _do_ wizards have?"

*\

Summer break goes by quickly after that. She finishes her textbooks two days before she's due in London, and can't tamp down her growing excitement. Each and every one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books is filled with both adventure _and_ knowledge and he's going to be _teaching_ them! She can't wait to discuss _Voyaging with Vampires_ with Alicia—it had been the most intriguing read by far (though _Wanderings with Werewolves_ had probably had the best information). She knows Alicia will have just as much to say about the books as she does.

The day before she's due to leave she finishes packing everything away and locks her trunk up. Her books had ended up taking over more room than her clothes despite leaving some of them at home, but she was going to be wearing robes over her clothes the majority of the days. Her dad laughs at her when he sees her trunk, but she shrugs it off because she knows he'd be doing the same, especially when he asks "well, don't you have to wear those robes during the school days? No one is going to know."

And then she's standing, hugging her dad tight while other students rush around her. He squeezes her tight and presses a kiss to the top of her head and whispers that he loves her, and then she turns to her mum, who does the same.

"I'll write soon," she says. "I don't know _when_—"

"'Mione!"

She whirls around just in time to see Katie flying at her. Hermione grins and catches her in a hug. "Katie!"

"I've missed you!" Katie says. She looks to Hermione's parents. "I'm so sorry to have interrupted, Mr. and Mrs. Granger—"

"Not at all, dear," her mum smiles.

Katie smiles. "I'm Katie Bell, Hermione's friend."

Her dad smiles. "It's nice to meet you. Hermione has told us about you."

Katie beams. She looks at Hermione. "Alicia and Lee are on the train already, Angelina is saying good-bye to her mum right over there, and we haven't seen _any_ of the Weasley's yet. Have you heard from them at all?"

Hermione frowns. "I haven't." A quick glance at the clock shows only seven minutes remain until eleven, and then they'd be unable to make it through to Platform 9 ¾. She turns to her parents, who look just as unsure as she does. "Perhaps they're just—running late?"

As if on cue, Percy appears through the barrier as soon as she finishes her words. Both her and Katie let out a relieved sigh. She bids her parents good-bye once more and they collect Angelina. "We can wait for them on the train," Katie says. "You two still have to get your trunks loaded up."

Hermione nods, dragging her case behind her. "I was going to sit with Harry and Ron—"

Angelina frowns. "What? 'Mione!"

"Those two don't write! I've talked to all of you all summer! I know Harry was locked away for most of it, but—"

"Yeah, yeah," Katie waves her off as she steps on the train. "We really need to go then to see if we can find you a compartment."

"Neville probably has one already with Seamus and Dean," she says. "Harry, Ron, and I can join them."

"Alright," Katie nods. "This is us," she says, pulling open a compartment door to reveal Lee and Alicia.

Alicia jumps up and runs at Hermione, pulling her in to a hug. "It's so good to see you again!"

"You too! I've missed you," Hermione laughs.

"Come in—sit—it looks like the twins have just arrived, so they'll be here soon."

"I'm actually going to be sitting with Ron and Harry," she says, apology thick in her voice. Alicia pouts. "I'll be with you at the feast!"

"Oh, fine."

"Uh, guys?" Lee's voice sounds for the first time. "Any idea what's going on?"

Hermione looks out the compartment window and sees Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley standing next to the barrier examining it cautiously. Mr. Weasley pokes it with his wand, but nothing happens. He turns to the twins and waves a hand to the train. The twins say something, but he shakes his head, waving them towards the train once more. They sigh and gather up their trunks, making their way to the train. Mr. Weasley continues to poke around the barrier, other witches and wizards coming up to offer him help.

"Hey, what's going on out there?" Angelina asks. Hermione looks behind her to see Fred and George standing there.

George loads his case up. "Harry and Ron never made it through behind us, and dad couldn't go back out to find them. The barrier is just… stuck."

Hermione gasps. "_What?_"

"Everyone out there is working on it," Fred tells her quickly. "The train is still leaving, but they'll probably just floo Harry and Ron to Hogwarts instead."

"They've got it!" Katie shouts from the window. Hermione rushes to see, but just then the train pulls off.

*\

Hermione stares out the window, passing miles and miles of rolling fields and hills. "Oh, I _do_ hope they're okay," she frets. "Do you think Professor Dumbledore already knows? I can't imagine how long it will take for them to get back to the Burrow, write a letter, and for Hedwig to get to Hogwarts. They're going to miss everything!"

"They'll be fine, Hermione," Angelina soothes.

"Yeah," George agrees, "once word gets around that _the_ Harry Potter missed the train, Dumbledore will pop out and right back in for them."

"What if something's happened, though?"

Fred leans in to Hermione's space and knocks her arm with his elbow. "Then they have you to avenge them. They'll be fine, 'Mine."

She looks out the window, frowning. "I hope so."

*\

Hermione looks around the Hall. It's only been two months since she'd last been here, but it feels like seeing it for the first time all over again.

Fred slides in to the seat next to her. He sets a small, aluminum replica of the Sorting Hat on the table in front of them. "Rules: one guess per person, per student. If you sort someone in to Slytherin and they're sorted into Gryffindor, you lose a point—"

"_What?_" Hermione huffs. "No!"

"Why not? It's like you're betraying our house by assumption."

"I think it was a joke—I _hope_ it was a joke because I'd probably have left the school already had I been sorted there—but the Sorting Hat briefly mentioned placing me in Slytherin. Anything is possible."

"Fine," Fred grumbles. "George and I _can_ guess separately."

"But it only counts for half a point if one of you are right."

George's eyes widen. "What? No!"

"Yes! Even if you _say_ you're two different people, you'd share the Sorting Hat trophy if _one_ of you won, but not the other, and you'll use your split answers to try and get more points," Hermione says. "Then—_if_ you happen to win—_both_ of you will hold it over my head until I win it back next year."

"I agree with Hermione on this one," Angelina says from her place across the table. She has her quill poised above a piece of parchment. Three columns are drawn, labeled F, G, and H at the top. "As the officiator, I make the final decisions. I rule with 'Mione."

"Rubbish!" Fred cries, narrowing his eyes at Angelina. "This is a set up!"

"Scared, Weasleys?" Hermione taunts.

They look at each other, then at her. "No. We'll beat you even _with_ those half points."

Just shy of an hour later and the last student is sorted—they don't beat her.

She wins, but only _just_.

"This is because of the half-points," George argues once Dumbledore has welcomed the new students and the feast has begun. "Why am I to be responsible for my brother's ridiculous guesses?"

"Hermione won by two points; you had _one_ correct guess that differentiated from Fred's, so there's no possible way you could have beaten her even if that half point had counted as a full point," Angelina says.

Fred glares. "We're coming for that trophy next year, Granger."

"I'd like to see you try," she smirks, snatching the trophy from where it sat in front of all of them.

"We almost had you beat this year!" George argues.

Across the table, Ginny rolls her eyes. "From what I heard, you almost had her beat last year as well. Perhaps she's just _better_."

"_Ginerva!_" Fred scolds, scowling at his little sister. "Blasphemy!"

Ginny grins and takes a dinner roll from the basket in front of her. "I just feel it's the obvious answer in this situation…"

Hermione looks at the youngest Weasley and then at Alicia, Angelina, and Katie. "We're keeping her, too, right?"

The answering grins from the other girls are an overwhelming _yes_. Hermione looks at Fred and grins. She's home.

*\

Rumors begin flying around during dinner and into the evening, and Hermione is losing her mind not knowing. Of course it _sounds_ ridiculous, but with the knowledge that yes, the Weasleys _do_ have a flying car they apparently drove to the station today and no, her friends _don't_ always think things through… well. She wouldn't put this past them.

"Oh… I'm going to see if I can find anyone," Hermione says.

"'Mine, I'm sure they'll be here soon," Fred says.

"But what if they're not? What if they've really been _expelled?_"

Alicia grabs her hand, "there's nothing you'd be able to do about that. I really don't think Dumbledore would expel either of them. He's very understanding, and they're young. They're bound to make mistakes. We all have at some point—he knows that."

Hermione squeezes her friend's hand in thanks. She sighs, and looks at the portrait hole again. "I… I'm going to go look for them. I think actively doing something will help settle me, maybe I can find Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore."

"I'll come with you," Alicia offers.

"There's really no need—"

"No," she agrees, "there's not. But it'd at least get me away from these three for a while." She cocks her head at Fred, George, and Lee and smiles with Hermione at their cries of outrage.

"Maybe we should come, too," Angelina says, nudging Katie. Their eyes are teasing, but Hermione knows they would if she asked.

"Oh, no," Hermione says. "You've got to stay here—_someone_ has got to keep them in line. We want to make it at least one night before they start their antics."

Katie laughs. "You have a point, 'Mione."

"Look at that, she already knows the drill," Angelina teases the three boys who are exaggeratedly pouting in their seats.

"Keep watch over them," Alicia warns, and then leads Hermione towards the portrait hole. They exit the common room and Alicia looks to her. "Where to first?"

Hermione frowns. "D'you think McGongall would be able to help?"

"I think unless you want to go straight to Dumbledore she's our best bet," Alicia says.

Twenty minutes later after a fruitless search (but productive walk, as they'd covered both Gadding with Ghouls _and_ Break with a Banshee), Hermione and Alicia wandered back to the Gryffindor tower. Hermione is worried even further now, and Alicia tries to talk her down from panicking. It's not until the portrait hole comes in to view that she relaxes in the slightest, however.

"_There_ you are!" Hermione yells, running towards the boys. Alicia follows at a much slower pace. "Where have you _been?_ The most _ridiculous_ rumors… someone said you'd been expelled for crashing that flying car—"

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry says.

Hermione groans, just as Alicia comes up beside her. "So you're telling me you _did_ fly here?"

"Skip the lecture and tell us the new password," Ron grumbles.

Hermione only has a moment to be annoyed before Alicia steps forward and says "wattlebird" to the Fat Lady. The portrait swings open and Hermione follows in behind her friends who are met with applause.

Hermione huffs, hearing Lee praise them. "What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for _years!_ About time someone gave that tree a taste of what it's been serving."

People clapped them on the shoulders and backs and congratulated them. From next to her, Alicia says, "oh no. 'Mione, plug your ears."

Hermione looks at her friend and frowns, confused. "Wh—"

"Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?" the twins voices ask in unison.

Hermione's head whips back around to them. Oh no. No, no, no—they could not get this in their heads. She isn't around enough to make sure they never get access to a flying car. She doesn't know if they have another one sitting at home, of if they know of anywhere to find one.

Harry and Ron excuse themselves shortly after, and Hermione whirls on the twins. "Do not ever think of doing _anything_ as _pathetically_ dimwitted as that _ever_ in you lives! I already have to deal with those two imbeciles. Do _not_ add to my stress!"

Fred frowns. "We're supposed to be the imbeciles, yell at them."

"Fredrick Gid—"

"Alright, alright!" George yells, holding his hands up in surrender, in place of his twin. "Nothing _that_ dimwitted, alright?"

Hermione huffs, and spins on her heel to march out of the room.

"Why aren't you scared of me like that?" she hears Angelina ask.

"It's a good thing she's not a red head," Lee says. "She'd just look like her head was on fire all the time."

"Too bad she's not a Weasley," George's voice follow's her.

"There's still time for that, isn't there though?" Alicia asks, a smirk loud in her tone.

Hermione climbs the stairs to her dorm and refuses to look back at them—won't let them see the blush that's risen on her cheeks from the implication hidden in her friend's words.

*\

"'Mione!" Angelina smiles as Hermione joins the group for lunch the next day. "Where are Ron and Harry today?"

"I could have sworn they were right behind me," Hermione huffs, sitting down next to Lee, spilling her buttons on to the table. "How unlikely is it that they stayed after to ask McGonagall for help?"

"Extremely," Lee snorts.

"I don't think there's even room to ask that question," admits George.

Fred shakes his head. "That's like asking how unlikely it is that George and I finished a History of Magic essay."

"Impossible."

"A zero-percent chance."

"Unheard of."

"Well," Hermione says, "I can hope your younger brother cares more about classes than you two."

"Oh, he does," Lee says. "If those two are left on their own they wouldn't even remember to go to class—that's how little they care about it."

"Alas," Fred says dramatically, "Angelina and Alicia are always there to remind us of our impending doom."

"Oh, quit being dramatic," Hermione scolds.

"I don't even understand it," Alicia says with a shake of her head. "You two _should_ be at the top of the class—I even thought you'd love that. Use it as a bragging point, and all."

"No, no way. Doing well in classes means expectations and we are not ready for that level of commitment to success in classes," Fred says.

"We spend our time doing much more productive things, anyway," George says.

"Oh, yes," Hermione nods, "who needs schooling when you have pranks?"

Fred grins. "You _do_ understand us, 'Mine."

"I really don't."

"Don't what?" Ron's voice jumps in the conversation as he settles in next to her. Harry sits beside him, and they load up their plates.

Katie turns to them. "Don't understand why you ditched Hermione."

Ron grimaces and holds up his crooked, taped up wand. "This bloody old wand! Can't do a thing anymore! Hermione was gone by the time we were packed up."

"How did it fare in transfiguration today?" Hermione wonders. She gestures to her pile of buttons on the table. "Here are the ones I managed. You can still see a bit of the beetle's marking's on this—"

"What've we got this afternoon?" Harry interrupts.

She's flustered at being cut off midsentence, but she doesn't have to think on this one. "Defense Against the Dart Arts."

Ron glances at the schedule lain out on top of her books. "_Why_ have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione lets out an undignified yelp and snatches the schedule back. Across from her, the twins have a dangerous glint to their eyes and she has to resist burying her face in her hands.

"Why wouldn't she?" Katie sighs.

"Have you _seen _him?" Angelina says.

"He's better than anyone at this school, at least," Alicia says.

"Or most of the wizarding world, probably," Katie agrees.

When Hermione looks up again, the twins are no longer looking at her, the glint is gone from their eyes, and they're grimacing. She smiles at Katie, Angelina, and Alicia, and they finish up their lunch quickly after that.

*\

Saturday mornings are fairly cut and dry for Hermione: she wakes up, gets dressed (leaving her class robes tucked tightly into her drawers), heads to the Great Hall, sits with Alicia, Katie, Angelina, the twins, and Lee, studies or chats with Harry and Ron until lunch, where she'll then eat with them and whoever else decides to join them.

She's awake and dressed and leaving her dorm on her way to the Great Hall when she hits a bump in her Saturday morning as Ron greets her with an awkward smile in the common room. She waves at him, and he stands up from the chair to walk with her out the portrait hole.

"Quidditch team woke up for early practice, I guess," he says as an explanation.

"How early?"

Ron shrugs. "Harry was gone when I got up, he left a note. Lee said Oliver came knocking for the twins just before dawn."

Hermione grimaces. She knows for a fact that each and every one of her friends on the Quidditch team are not morning people. She makes a wager in her mind then on who would be worse: Alicia or one of the twins (likely Fred, as George usually complains about having to wake him up).

She and Ron make it to the Great Hall in a companionable silence. They start down the table for their normal seats, but Hermione hesitates when they're nearly half way there. She sees Lee sitting on his own, picking at a waffle as he reads a book. She calls to Ron, who stops in his tracks and looks at her. Nodding to Lee, Hermione wordlessly tells her friend she's going to be sitting there. Ron frowns, but joins her as she walks over.

She sits across from Lee and takes a muffin from the plate in front of her. "If I knew separating you from the pack was all it took to make you study I would have done that last year," Hermione teases Lee, who startles.

His eyes are wide when he looks up, but his face settles in to an easy grin when he notices her. He lifts up the book and shows her the cover. _990 Secrets of Wizards Past: The Origins of Hexes_. "I know it's not quite up to your leisure reading standards, but it's just a bit of light reading," he teases back. "It takes a lot more than loneliness and boredom to get me to _actually_ study."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "_One day_," she threatens, "I will get you to study."

"I'll be waiting for that day to arrive," he says.

Ron is watching them, eye brows furrowed together in confusion. Hermione can understand that a bit, at least. Of all her friends, she's least close with Lee, and doesn't interact much with him outside of their group. It's not surprising that Ron wouldn't connect them as friends.

"Ron said Oliver woke them up at dawn. Who's the first to fall asleep on their broom: Fred or Alicia?"

"Fred, easily," Lee answers with no hesitation. "Doesn't help that he was up until past midnight reading about Spell Theory again."

Ron snorts. "Why would Fred be reading up on Spell Theory willingly?"

Hermione hesitates. She knows Fred and George have started looking in to creating their own, more elaborate pranks, and Fred has approached her about helping him research spell creation since she's quicker at finding just where to look for certain topics in the library. She's not quite sure it's something he wants his little brother to know about.

"There's a product he got from Zonko's that he's having trouble understanding," Lee makes up, seemingly having come to the same conclusion as Hermione. "Hermione suggested Spell Theory to help him figure it out."

"And he _listened_ to you?" Ron asks incredulously.

Hermione frowns, and shares a look with Lee. "Yes? Why?"

"I guess I just didn't think the twins would listen to—well, no offense, but—_you_. They're not in the habit of listening to… someone who, uh, likes school, even if they are friends with some of their friends."

It dawns on Hermione, then: Ron _still_ doesn't know she's friends with his brothers. He doesn't know that Fred and George are both _quite_ in the habit of listening to 'someone who likes school,' as they regularly come to her with the problems they can't solve.

("C'mon, 'Mines," Fred had whined just last week. "You're the only person we know ("—and like" George adds) that can do non-verbal spells that isn't graduated already, help us out."

"I can only do _one_ spell without an incantation, Fred," she pointed out. "And I regret that now since now you won't bugger off."

"We will if you tell us your secrets," George grinned, despite his Dogwood wand, which was much less suited for non-verbal magic than Hermione's Vine or Fred's Cedar.)

Lee shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Friends with some of their friends?"

Ron takes a bite of his eggs and raises his eyebrows. "Alicia and them."

"Hermione and the twins are friends, too," Lee frowns.

Ron rolls his eyes. "Right, but in the way that _you're_ friends with Hermione," he says. "Like, if Fred and George were here she wouldn't really be your first choice, but you know her through them and the others that you can sit together and still have common ground, right?"

Hermione and Lee look at each other.

Thinking on it, however, Hermione can't exactly blame Ron. He hasn't said this to be cruel, as if she's not worthy of a friendship with the twins. Plus she can't pin point the amount of times out of the library or the lake she's been with the twins without their other friends. It could be hard to separate them from their other friends. For a long time, Hermione wondered why Fred and George wanted to be her friend, too. And Ron may even be wondering why she wanted to be _their_ friend.

She doesn't feel like explaining herself right now. Knowing Ron, it could end in an argument, and she doesn't want that so early in the term over something so trivial. They eat their breakfast rather quickly after that, and then Hermione suggests taking food to Harry for when his practice lets out. Ron agrees eagerly and gathers up several pieces of toast while Hermione collects a few portions of his favorite marmalade.

They say their good-byes to Lee and make their way down to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the remainder of practice.

*\

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," Malfoy spits.

Hermione has never heard the term before, but immediately she knows it's not a good one.

Well, she could have told you that on account of _Malfoy_ being the one to call her that, but, beyond that, she knows it's got to be bad.

Fred and George turn red and dive towards the blond, where the Slytherin captain has to step in front of him to block their attack. Alicia is fuming from behind Oliver, who also looks angry, though Hermione can't tell if that's from Malfoy's words or his disrupted practice. Angelina and Katie are scowling as well; looking angrier than Hermione has ever seen them. They look like they're going to say something until Ron's hex spectacularly backfires and Hermione's rushing over to him.

There's not much time to talk to her other friends as she rushes Ron off to Hagrid's, so she throws them an apologetic smile over her shoulder, and hurries off.

*\

"Hey, 'Mione," Alicia smiles softly. "How're you doing?"

Hermione cocks her head to the side. "Fine?" She looks around the table and finds all of her friends with various states of upset on their faces. "Oh, don't tell me you're still on about that Malfoy thing from this morning, you guys—"

"Should've bloody beat him with the brooms," George says, scowling still. His statement is met with murmurs of agreement. He glares over at the Slytherin table. "Oh, yes, your brooms are so much better for flying, what about for a whack to the head?"

"George," Hermione berates him, "calm down. It's over now."

"Really?" Angelina frowns. "You think it's over? My _mum_ was called—_that_, over twenty years ago. Just because that event is over doesn't mean the prejudice is. Malfoy still thinks he's better than you, just because your parents are both Muggles. Talk to me when _that_ is over."

Hermione sighs. She realizes that this isn't _just_ about her—it's about the word and the prejudice. She may not mind the word since it cannot harm her, but others who might hear it from Malfoy or anyone else might be hurt by the word. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be bloody _sorry_," Fred snaps. "Be _angry_, Hermione!"

She shakes her head. "Not today. It's—a word isn't going to hurt me. I'm not going to let it. I'm stronger than it."

Alicia sits up straighter, a proud look on her face. "Damn right you are. We can fight prejudice any time, but in the mean time, we're stronger than it."

Katie nods, firm. She reaches for Hermione's hand. "Malfoy or his friends ever come to you again, we're right behind you, but I'm proud of you."

Hermione feels almost overwhelmed with love and support. She smiles at them all and thanks them. "I just don't want to talk about it right now. I think you're all more upset about it than I am. Want to know something?" she asks the table. After she gets several curious looks and 'whats?' she grins at Fred and George. "Ron doesn't realize I'm friends with you."

"What?" Alicia says, surprised. "But… if you're not with Harry and him, you're with us. And you've never hid that."

"Oh, no," Hermione shakes her head, "he knows I'm friends with _you three_," she moves her finger, pointing at Alicia, Katie, and Angelina each in turn, "but he thinks Fred and George—and Lee, I suppose, though maybe not since I sat with him at breakfast—just deal with me when I'm with you. Friends by extension."

"But—you're closer to them than us? Even Alicia doesn't see you as much as Fred and George do," Katie frowns in confusion.

Hermione nods. "Yeah, but how often does _Ron_ see me with just them? Ron and Harry _never_ go in the library, and the lake isn't their favorite place to be. It makes sense. He doesn't understand why they would be friends with me—"

"But—" George begins.

"—or why I would be friends with them," Hermione finishes. They all stay silent when she makes that point. "I don't quite know what to do. The strangest things upset him and I don't want to ruin my friendship with him, or make him upset with you two. I might just wait until he realizes we're friends on his own."

George snorts. "We'll have graduated by then."

"Bold, predicting that you'll graduate at all," Angelina says.

"Oi!" Fred yells. "You're not wrong, but _oi!_"

"I will drag you two through school by your ears until they fall off to get you to your graduation if I have to," Hermione says.

"And that's all the motivation I'll need to perform well enough to graduate," George announces as he covers his ears. "I don't doubt you for a moment."

"As it should be."

Across the table, Katie flicks her eyes between the three of them, as if she's trying to piece something together. "How can anyone _not_ realize they're friends?" she mutters. Hermione isn't sure anyone else was supposed to hear, but they all laugh nonetheless. Katie looks briefly embarrassed but recovers. "Honestly, though! They've _studied_ because of you!"

"And that was a one time thing," Fred says.

"An experiment, really," George nods.

"We decided we didn't quite like it."

"Quickly moved back to the study-free lifestyle."

"Where life is good and essays are turned in incomplete."

George tosses his arm around Fred and gives Hermione a pointed look. "And you never have to worry about time management."

Hermione grimaces. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"At least you'll be able to skive off class if you are!" Fred says happily. Meanwhile, Lee cackles across from her, pointing at her face while the girls laugh at a more reasonable level. She wants to be offended, but she's sure she did just pull a nasty face all because George mentioned a lack of time management. She's a bit embarrassed for herself.

"It is a confusing friendship," Alicia admits, once the group has calmed down. "I still don't know why you put up with them, 'Mione."

Hermione laughs, and smiles wide at the twins in a joking manner. "If you figure it out, let me know. I'm not quite sure, either."

*\

Hermione's mind is stuck on the voice in Harry's head. So much so that she loses track of the days. The 19th is celebrated much like last year but with more of a focus on Hermione, since it falls on a Saturday this year. The twins and Lee set off fireworks for her again, she receives presents from everyone (even Ron and Harry), she gets an owl and more books from her parents, and then they spend the day feasting on sweets that Fred, George, and Lee retrieve ("isn't this map incredible?" George asks, months later when Hermione finally confronts them about how they always seem to have things at the most convenient of times) and playing Wizards' chess ("I like you," Ron says to Katie—the only one who has lasted longer than ten minutes against him) and Exploding Snap.

Ron and Harry leave them around dinner to join Seamus, Dean, and Neville for the rest of the night. They take their place around the fire later that evening when Hermione looks up to see three of the first year Gryffindor girls—sans Ginny. She finds Fred beside her and pinches his side to get his attention. He looks up from his books. "Where has Ginny been?" Hermione wonders. "I've barely seen her, and when I have she's been so quiet. I don't know her too well but she doesn't seem like the girl I met that first night."

Fred shakes his head. "She's not. We've tried talking to her and she won't listen. George thinks she's home sick," he says, keeping his voice down and nodding his head to his twin sitting in the chair across from them.

"And you?"

"What?"

"You said _George_ thinks she's home sick. What do _you_ think, then?"

Fred shrugs. "I don't know. I think that might be a part of it, but I think her dorm mates might be nasty. I keep thinking that she's acting like she's… I can't explain it. My sister isn't being bullied, she wouldn't let it happen."

"No one would _let_ someone bully them if they had a choice, Fred."

"But you don't know her. She's strong—she's been reading up on hexes since she was young, could probably out-hex most people in your year if she really wanted to. If someone were hurting her, she'd hurt them back."

"… maybe they're not being mean physically."

Fred looks down, and Hermione understands he's already realized this. "Yeah."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. She gets—weird sometimes. George and I can usually talk to her; she's always looked up to us. We'll give it another go before we make it too obvious that we're bringing someone else in the picture."

Hermione nods, leaning into his side. He wraps an arm around her and finally looks at her. "If you need my help at all, please do tell me."

"Thank you, 'Mine."

*\

It's almost two months before they bring it up again, and when they do, it's Fred who does. It's just a few days gone from Mrs. Norris being petrified when Fred finds her at dinner. Normally, this wouldn't be strange, but she's sitting down the table, where she usually meets with Harry and Ron. She looks up at him in surprise.

"D'you remember offering to speak with Ginny?" he asks. She nods. "I might take you up on that offer. She's inconsolable."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know if her dorm mates are making this Chamber thing out to be worse than it is, but she's… not right. She's jumpy and scared, and no matter what we say, she won't hear it."

Hermione purses her lips. "I'll see what I can do. From what I've read, it sounds like she has nothing to worry about; the Chamber is said to hold a monster that goes after muggleborns. Purebloods are completely safe. I've not a clue the safety on half-bloods, I'm rather certain they're just as safe as the rest of you lot, but as she's _not_ a half-blood she needn't worry… "

"The rest of us—_'Mione_."

"What?"

"_You're_ a muggleborn."

She shrugs. "It's not as if I'm running around the castle defenseless, Fred."

"But you—"

"I'm fine, Fred," she says. She doesn't fool him. He doesn't miss her wording—doesn't miss that she doesn't say she will continue to be fine, doesn't miss that she can't bring herself to add an 'I promise.' She can't make herself promise him, she knows that it's one that she may not be able to keep.

Fred is frowning. "Sit with us tonight?"

Hermione sighs. "Alright, then."

They stand and make their way to where they usually sit, just as the others enter the Hall. She takes her normal seat next to Fred and starts piling food on her plate.

"So what's this I hear about you turning Ron's teddy bear in to a giant spider?" Hermione wonders as the rest of their group settles in around them.

Fred and George bark out laughs, and Katie looks over curiously. "Complete accidental magic, but I stand by it to this day that it was justified," he says.

"Freddie didn't even have his broom for a full day before Ron snapped the handle off. When Fred found it, Ron happened to be sleeping and holding his favorite teddy bear. It wasn't his favorite wake up call he's ever had."

"That's awful!" Angelina cries, looking horrified.

Alicia grins. "Fred is much more skilled now, he could turn your dinner in to a spider. Couldn't you, Freddie?"

Angelina shakes her head as she sees Fred smirk and reach for his wand. "I will hex your bollocks off, Fredrick Weasley. _Do not_."

"Fine, fine. You take the spiders—sorry, _fun_—out of everything."

*\

It has been over a month since Colin has been petrified, and just as talk started to die down of the Chamber… well.

Alicia grabs Hermione's arm as she goes to chase after her friends. "Hermione—?"

Hermione shakes her head, cutting off her friend before she can even ask her question. "I don't know. I have absolutely _no_ idea."

"He just talked to a bloody _snake_ and you have no idea? Aren't you his best friend?" Lee complains.

Hermione glares, and rushes out of the room after Harry and Ron.

*\

Hermione doesn't get to spend as much time as she'd like with Fred and George leading up to or on Christmas. They're too busy trying to help Ginny with her apparent homesickness (by taking on a new strategy and trying to scare it out of her, it seems), and Hermione has been too focused on making sure Ron's friendship won't fall apart once he realizes the relationship she has with the twins, even though that currently means seeing them less. She also has to focus on the Polyjuice potion, and Harry's distress about Justin and the Heir debacle.

She does get to spend Christmas dinner with them, but half of it is spent sending scolding looks towards Fred who has changed Percy's 'Prefect' badge, and the other half is spent contemplating how the rest of the night is going to go—what with the Polyjuice Potion and all.

She should have contemplated more carefully.

"Merlin, 'Mione," George says the next morning, once Harry and Ron have brought them down to the infirmary. "What the bloody hell—"

"Oh—just… we don't need to talk about it, alright?" she groans.

Fred grins. "No, no—we definitely need to talk about this. Can you stand up? Can I see your tail?"

"Fred!"

"Wh—c'mon 'Mine! You—you've got a _tail_. An actual _tail!_ What would you say if _I_ was in the hospital wing with fur and a tail?"

"'What did you do now?'"

"Hey!"

"Would you _keep it down in there?_" Madam Pomfrey hisses. "Now! Or the both of you will lose all privileges to see her while she's in here!"

George's eyes widen. "But—"

Fred smacks him. "Shut it! D'you want to get us kicked out?"

They don't get kicked out and continue to visit her over break. Once other students have returned from break, they start bringing the others along with them.

Finally, after what seems like ages but has actually been just over a month, she's released from the infirmary. They have a small party at dinner that night—Fred and George some how got the kitchens to make her favorites, and Harry and Ron sat with them as well.

Thus far, it's not quite how she pictured her second year, but surrounded by her friends, she doesn't mind.

*\

The months pass easily after that. There's the matter of the diary and what T.M. Riddle has shown Harry, and whether or not Hagrid is truly the one to be feared, and also the stress of picking classes ("but Professor, there must be _some_ way—you can't possibly make me choose when I don't even know what I want to be!"). Between those worries, on top of the twins' birthday, on top of beginning to study for end of term exams, on top of trying to crack the puzzle of the Chamber and the monster inside time goes by far too quickly.

When the final piece of the puzzle fits in to place, she couldn't be more relieved when she tears the page from the book. Even better, she still has plenty of time to make the Quidditch match.

She runs in to a prefect in the hall—one left to patrol during the match, and Hermione rushes up to her. Penelope listens as Hermione rushes out her explanation. She clenches the page tight in her fist and looks to Penelope next to her. "I know I _could_ be wrong, but it lines up, doesn't it? Better to be petrified than dead."

Penelope laughs tightly. "Blunt, but true. How did you come to think of a basilisk?"

"Some light reading I did last year. We aren't allowed to take Care of Magical Creatures yet, but I'm Muggle born, so there's still so much that's new to me."

"And—you just? Randomly remembered a creature from last year?"

"Well—" she hesitates, holds the mirror up to look around the next corner. "Not necessarily… There's just been a few things—"

She glances into the reflection of the mirror, Penelope leaning in close. Hermione shifts the mirror for a better view, and spots two beady, yellow eyes.

*\

George can hear Oliver and Alicia yelling from behind him, Fred from next to him, and McGonagall—well... her voice is coming from all around him. He just doesn't _understand_. This isn't just a game to be postponed.

He starts over towards McGonagall, much like the rest of his teammates, and pauses when he sees the grim look on her face. "Potter, I think you'd better come with me…"

She looks around, and if possible, her face falls further. "Oh," she says, just as Ron arrives. "Perhaps you'd better all come—save for you, Mr. Wood. Head straight to Gryffindor tower."

Oliver frowns, still clearly reeling from the cancellation, but nods.

They set off for the castle then. Everyone exchanges looks with one another while they follow their Head of House. George can feel his frown growing deeper as he recognizes the path they're taking. When they reach the corridor leading to the infirmary, McGonagall slows her pace. "This will be a bit of a shock. There has been another attack… another _double_ attack."

George feels his heart drop to the floor. He may be a trickster, but he's not a fool. There's not a question in his mind of who one of the people in the infirmary that has been attacked is—not if McGonagall saw fit to bring the entire Quidditch team minus their keeper, plus Ron. From the gasps coming from around him, he knows everyone else has come to the same conclusion as he has.

McGonagall pushes the door open, and they all file in. Their eyes are drawn first to the bed where Pomfrey is tending to a student—a Ravenclaw Prefect if George remembers correctly. He's reluctant to look beyond her, but he hears Ron gasp, groan out, "Hermione!" and Angelina and Katie let out strangled cries while Alicia chokes on a sob from next to Harry. So George steels himself and flicks his eyes to the next bed.

He thinks he must go in to a daze as he stares at her. It's eerie, seeing her so lifeless but knowing (or rather, having to cling to hope and knowledge) that she was alive under some dark curse… Her eyes are open and unseeing, void of any of their natural gleam of joy or curiosity or kindness.

His stomach rolls, and he feels like he might be sick.

"They were found near the library. I don't suppose any of you can explain this?" McGonagall asks, holding up a small mirror. "It was found on the floor next to them."

The group all look around at one another. It's evident in their eyes they're desperate for someone to have some idea of what the mirror might have been for, but no one has a clue. McGonagall looks just as disappointed. Everyone looks back to Hermione except—well.

George looks at Fred out of the corner of his eye, who is staring at the floor. His hands are in tight fists at his sides, and his chest looks like it's heaving breath after breath—a job that shouldn't take as much work as it appears to be. His lips are pressed together in a tight line, and as soon as McGonagall speaks again, saying that she's going to escort them back to their tower, Fred twists on the ball of his foot and is out the door before any of the others.

The walk back to the tower is silent. Fred leads the way, and McGonagall casts worried glances at him—something that tells George he's not wrong in worrying about his brother's wellbeing, not when even their professor is so deeply concerned.

Angelina walks next to him, with Alicia on her other side, and Katie beyond her, and they're all just as quiet verbally, but they can't keep quiet with their eyes. The fear written clear as day in their expressions for their friend, and their concern for Fred—it's just. George doesn't know how to handle it. He's good at making people laugh but there's a time for everything, and this is not the time for jokes, it's not the time for pranks, it's not the time for a reprieve from sadness. He _wants_ to feel sad, and he wants everyone around him to feel sad, because he refuses to let Hermione be brushed aside—refuses to pretend that Hermione can be forgotten for even a moment.

They make it back to the tower and the entire House listens as McGonagall delivers her speech. Some people look fearful, some look angry, and some look—well.

Some look like his twin.

Listen, George knows Fred is closer to Hermione than he is. Hermione is one of their closest friends, but since just before Halloween last school year, Fred has been _attached_ to her. He hasn't figured out whether Fred is protecting her like he would Ginny or if he's got some sort of crush (like he and Lee have been teasing Fred about for a few weeks now), but he doesn't think Fred knows either. All either of them understand is that Hermione is _his_, in a way that she isn't George's, or Alicia's, or Harry's, or anyone else's, really.

And right now, George can see pain and fear and anger burning in his brother's eyes as Lee ticks off all of the victims and starts bemoaning the Heir of Slytherin and how the professors are being ignorant.

George looks around the room as everyone cheers at Lee's words. He spots Harry beside him, staring at a frozen Percy. He leans in. "Percy's in shock," he tells him. "That Ravenclaw girl—Penelope Clearwater—she's a prefect. I don't think he thought the monster would dare attack a _prefect_."

Harry and Ron leave shortly after, and Fred isn't far behind them. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie are curled up in the corner, Alicia staring off in to space and Angelina and Katie talking in hushed tones. Lee has taken up a table near a window, muttering about how he might as well get his essay out of the way now, but he's looking out the window much more than he is his parchment.

George can't take it anymore—seeing his friends so dejected while the rest of the common room carries on. There is, of course, a new feel to the room—cautious and anxious—but no one's life has been shifted as drastically as their group's—not right now.

He stands and hurries up to his dorm. Before he can enter, he hears something crashing to the floor. He pauses in his step, and then charges forward. Fred is standing next to his bed, a pile of books scatter along the floor in front of him. He looks up and meets George's eyes. He looks furious. He looks terrified. He looks hurt.

He looks shaken to the core, and for the first time, George isn't sure what to say. He moves forward tentatively and Fred tenses. "She said she'd be fine," Fred mutters. "She lied, y'know?"

George steps closer. "No, she didn't. Freddie, she's still alive. We just have to wait for—"

"Exactly, we have to wait, and so does she," he snaps. "Plenty of time for whatever put her in there to find her and finish her off, don't you think?"

"No—they have a guard posted, and—"

"What do you think a _guard_ is going to do? What can a guard do that Hermione or that bloody prefect couldn't do?"

"Freddie—"

His brother exhales. A whoosh of breath that George can hear from across the room. He looks helplessly at George. "I'm scared."

"I am, too."

Fred shakes his head. "You don't… I'm _terrified_, George. I feel sick, and dizzy, and… I don't want to lose her. She's my best friend."

George stares. There's so much he wants to say, but he can't promise his brother anything. He can't tell Fred that Hermione will be fine, and that she'll come back and scold them for not studying for exams. He can only stare at his brother helplessly, begging Merlin that the right words will come to him.

They don't.

*\

Seeing Hermione in the hospital bed the next day is jarring. When they had been to see her the night before it had been hard, but they'd been in shock—they hadn't been prepared, had barely had time to process it before McGonagall was shuffling them all back to their common room. But now? Seeing her unmoving, in the same position as she had been last night, as if she were a statue rather than a living being? George feels uneasy in an unspeakable way.

Beside him, Fred is grasping the footboard of the bed, and his knuckles are fading to white from the strength of his hold. George moves in close to his twin. He's more rational today, so George tries again. "Freddie," he murmurs. "They're working on a cure—she'll be okay."

"She shouldn't be in here in the first place," he hisses.

"You're right," he agrees, because no, she shouldn't. None of these beds should be filled. Someone in this school is attacking these people and it's not acceptable and—well.

He hates them.

He hates them; he does, for taking away his freedom at this school, for inciting fear and panic in the students, for putting one of his best friends in the hospital wing, for inflicting this damage to his brother's psyche by taking Hermione away (if even only temporarily), for causing all this pain.

There was never any doubt he'd hate them, what with them being the Heir of Slytherin. It wasn't hard to guess that he was going to hate them. But he _hates_ them. He doesn't need to see their face to know that he'd break any law, _every law_, to bring them down.

*\

The next day they bring Lee and Alicia along to visit, only to be turned away by Pomfrey. Fred and Alicia throw fits, all but cursing the school's doctor, before George and Lee finally drag them away.

"That's rubbish," Fred spits, stalking angrily back to the common room.

Alicia nods along. "As if _we're_ going to bring any harm to her! To any of them!"

"_We_ won't, but if she let us in, she'd have to let others in, too. Including the Slytherins," Lee points out, trying to be rational, trying to calm them. There's a bitter note to his voice. He's still angry that the Slytherins are allowed to remain at the school. Honestly, so is George. He understands that it's one person out of the entire house, but when it comes to protecting the other 75% of the school, shouldn't the choice be obvious?

It's not obvious, it turns out. The days pass slowly until they get news Hermione will be revived that evening and things start looking up until—well.

George looks up when the portrait hole opens. He's expecting to see McGonagall, who will explain just _what_ is going on, but instead he sees a mop of black hair helping drag a distressed mop of red hair through the entrance. He jumps up, along with Fred, to go help Harry with their brother.

"What's wrong?" Fred asks frantically, moving to support Ron's other side. They get Ron to one of the couches and sit him down. They take their places on either side of him, while George sits down on the coffee table across from them. Harry looks between Ron and Fred, and then George. His face is grim.

George feels a sinking sensation in his stomach (blimey, he's getting real tired of that feeling) and demands, "what is it? What's happened?"

Ron lets out a whine, and looks at George. "_Ginny_," he whimpers.

Oh, no.

"She's been petrified?" he gasps.

"She—" Ron tries, but chokes on a hitched breath.

"_Ron_," Fred says with a firm voice. "_What_ has happened to Ginny?"

"She was taken inside the Chamber," Harry answers for his best friend. George snaps his attention to the boy and stares, because he surely didn't just—_couldn't_ have said…

"No."

George turns to Fred, who is glaring. His twin shakes his head. "No. She's pure blood, and she… the monster doesn't _take_ anyone, it—"

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbles.

"No," Fred denies again. "She was—was _there_ at breakfast, and, in the common room just a few hours ago and—"

It's probably the wail from Ron that slams it home for George and halts Fred's protests.

And then the tears well up in Ron's eyes, and he thinks that's what brings it home for Fred, who says "no" once again, but this time it isn't defiant—it's. Well, it's broken.

George swallows down the pain, keeping it hidden for the time being. "How? How do you know? For sure. How did you—did she?"

"There was another message from the Heir," Harry says, glancing warily at Ron. "We overheard McGonagall telling the other professors about it. She said Ginny was taken."

"_What?_" comes from behind George. He turns around to see Percy standing behind him. "_Ginny?_"

Harry nods once.

"But—the message. _Surely_ they're mistaken."

"_What_ message?" Fred demands.

Percy shifts uncomfortably. "'_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_,'" he recites. "But—she's not, _can't_ be—"

"I'm _sorry_," Harry repeats again, and George might be sick.

No, he's definitely going to be sick.

He hurries away from the group and up the dormitory stairs and stumbles into a bathroom. He vomits once, and then again, and then dry heaves a lot more—or maybe he's just hyperventilating. He's really not quite sure.

It goes on until he hears someone enter the bathroom. He hadn't locked the door, apparently.

Harry peaks through the door and his face is carefully blank. "Er—Fred wanted to know if you were okay, but he didn't want to leave Ron."

George gasps in another breath before standing. His vision blacks out for a moment, but he is able to steady himself and walk towards the door. The stairs were going to be the hard part.

Eventually, he gets back to his brothers, seeing them curled up on the couch together as Ron cries silent tears and Fred's face is void of any emotion. He looks around for his older brother.

Harry seems to understand what he's looking for and tells him, "Percy sent an owl off to your parents. He went up to his room a few minutes ago."

George nods, because he doesn't have the strength to march up the steps and demand Percy be with the rest of them right now. He feels the tiniest bubble of anger in his gut, but when he turns away from Harry and back to his brothers, it pops, and he's left with overwhelming pain and sadness.

He moves and takes his place on Ron's other side, curling around him like Fred has: comforting him, shielding him, _protecting _him.

Then finally—_finally_—McGonagall steps through the portrait hole. Her eyes track around the room, settling on them, and her face twists with sorrow and sympathy. If George needed any further proof, well. He had it now.

With a call from her that rings throughout all of the dormitories, the students who had retreated to their rooms start filtering down the stairs. Once everyone is present, including a red faced, puffy-eyed Percy waiting by the boys' stairs, as if he were ready to make a break for it, McGonagall opens a scroll. She stares at it for a long moment, and then seems to decide to take this speech into her own hands.

"It is of my deepest sorrow that I am here to inform you that the time has come for you all to pack. Tomorrow you will be on your way home. This is the final night of Hogwarts. Pack your things, say your goodbyes, exchange floo information," she rambles. "Do not forget what you have learned within these walls. Hogwarts may be closing, but it will live on forever through its students—through all of you."

"But _Professor_," the fifth year boys' prefect, protests. "_Why?_ Surely now that we have the cure for this—"

"A student has been taken, Mr. Meakin," McGonagall interrupts. "We can no longer safely keep you here. I'm sorry, to all of you, but as Gryffindors you must understand: there are times you stand up and fight, there are times that you don't back down, and there are times that you admit defeat. If admitting defeat saves even one of your lives, I will happily do so."

Murmurs roll across the common room, and their attention focuses on the Weasley brothers. They seem to connect what McGonagall said about a student being taken and the way the boys were acting. McGonagall takes a second to look around. "That will be all. It has been an honor knowing all of you and being your Head of House. I suggest you start packing soon."

Students look around the room sadly, and then all at once, head towards the stairs. Soon, there's only ten or so people left in the common room. McGonagall takes her approach, then.

"I can assume you've all heard," she says, with a voice thick with sadness.

Fred looks at her. She nods at him.

"Can I also assume that Percy has been informed?"

Harry answers with a quiet "yes" for them.

McGonagall sighs. "I won't ask how you found out—" her eyes flick to Harry briefly here "—but if you need anything, you only need call for Dumbledore or myself."

Ron shivers in his arms, and George thanks the professor. She turns to leave, but pauses. "I… This need not even be said, but I should say it anyway: Ginny was a brilliant student, and I could see parts of all of you in her. This is one tragedy that is unrecoverable. You have my deepest sympathies."

They stay with Ron and Harry a bit longer, but make it up to their room eventually. Lee and Kenneth freeze in their packing. Lee stands, as if to approach them, but hesitates. Fred turns and moves to his bed. George follows.

Fred clings to George as soon as the curtain is closed, sobbing in to his twin's shoulder. George joins moments later and can't even think of a spell to keep the others from hearing their cries at the moment, for they've lost their little sister, they've lost Hogwarts, they've lost pieces and parts of their beings that they'll never be able to recover, and his heart is shattering.

_("You have no reason to be worried," George assures Ginny. _

_ "You're safe here," Fred tells her. _

_ "That's not true," Ginny cries.) _

They should have listened, he thinks. Could it really have been a coincidence that Ginny, his fearless sister would be the one person that was taken by the monster when she had been scared—_so_ scared—all year long?

They should have listened, but they didn't. They just brushed it off as bullying and homesickness—as if Ginny would ever let anyone make her feel inferior or as if she didn't have half of her family with her to make her feel at home when she felt lonely.

They should have listened, but they didn't. They just watched as she wasted away week by week, until the shadows under her eyes looked painted on and her hair lost any natural sheen from where the malnourishment and sleepless nights took hold.

"We should have listened," Fred chokes out, and his voice is wet and hoarse and wrecked.

George doesn't need to point out the obvious, doesn't need to say it, but he does anyways with a small nod to Fred. "But we didn't."

*\

He's not sure how much they actually sleep, but he feels like it's barely been a moment since he's closed his eyes when there's a pounding on their door.

"Mr.'s Weasley," McGonagall's voice comes through the wood. George grumbles and opens Fred's beds curtains and gets up. He looks out the window, frowning when he sees that it's still dark out. He stands and stumbles over to the door. He opens it and squints at McGonagall, whose face is bathed in elation. "Your brother and Mr. Potter did a very stupid thing," she begins, "in entering the Chamber. They have, however, saved your sister."

George stumbles back, rushing to the bed and shaking Fred awake. "Freddie," he hisses. "Fred! Freddie!"

Fred blinks his eyes open and stares up at him. "George? Wh—?"

"Harry and Ron got Ginny. She's _alive_," he breathes.

He's out of bed in less than a second. "_What?_"

McGonagall clears her throat from the doorway. "Your brother and Mr. Potter snuck in to the Chamber," she recaps, catching Fred up on what he'd missed, "and while it was very stupid of them, I cannot say I regret their decision. Your parents and sister are in the infirmary."

*\

They make it down to the infirmary in record time. The door is propped open and a voice floats into the corridor before they even enter the room.

"—of course, dear, they're all good as new!" Pomfrey is saying.

"No one is hurt?" Ginny's voice is small. George breath catches in his throat. She's _okay_. His feet move faster.

"They'll make a full recovery within the hour. There's nothing to worry about."

They make it through the door and freeze, seeing their parents, Ginny, and Pomfrey standing next to a cart full of empty cups that George thinks must have been the cure. He—honestly he doesn't really care for that at the moment.

"Ginny," he breathes.

She spins around. Her eyes are red and blood shot and her face is puffy. Fred moves first, running to pull her in to his arms, but George doesn't wait long after that. Ginny lets out a small laugh, and then another. She squirms in their arms and tells them to let her go—that they're being needy and annoying. George laughs and holds on to her tighter.

"Get off of me!" she whines.

"No can do, Ginerva," George teases, ruffling her hair. "Deal with it."

"I've been dealing with you two my entire life, you'd think being targeted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and almost killed would get me a free pass," she grumbles.

"_Ginny!_" their mum shouts from a few feet away.

George freezes—curious about what she means by being targeted. She's looking up at him with bright eyes and a mischievous smile though, and the fact that she can joke about it…

"Never," Fred grins, coming to the same conclusion as George. Their sister is healing, and their job now is to make it as painless as possible. "You don't get free passes. You can negotiate terms, however."

She smirks. "I have information on Percy."

George feels his eyes widen. Fred's smile goes feral. They look down at her. "Tell us everything."

She opens her mouth, but just as she starts to speak, there's a cough from across the room. Fred's head whips around, as does Ginny's. The Ravenclaw Prefect is shifting in her bed, looking around, and Hermione is sitting up, blinking her eyes. Fred is at her side in an instant.

"Hey, 'Mine," Fred whispers. He takes a seat on the very edge of her bed and grabs the hand closest to him. "How're you feeling?"

"They're okay," Ginny says.

"What?" George asks.

Ginny looks up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "They're okay. I thought—I thought I killed them, I thought they wouldn't—but they're _really, actually_ okay…"

George frowns, confused now more than he's ever been. "Of course they're okay. They're all going to be okay."

"I—"

"Why don't you come say hi to Hermione?" George suggests, half because he thinks it will be good for Ginny, half because he is itching to see his friend for himself.

Ginny looks over to the girl. She nods once. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and leads her over to Hermione, ignoring his mum's questions as they pass. When they make it to the bed, Fred is talking quietly to Hermione, filling her in on the events that she's missed. When he sees George and Ginny approach, he quiets.

"I'm so glad you're safe," Hermione says to Ginny. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Ginny chokes on a sob before she launches herself at Hermione. The older girl catches her surprisingly easily for someone who has been asleep for just over three weeks and has just woken up. "I'm so sorry," Ginny wails. "It's all my fault you're in here! All of you!"

"What?" Hermione asks, pulling away from the younger girl. "Ginny—no—"

"Yes, Hermione, that bloody diary—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used me to open the Chamber and you're all in here because of me!"

"Ginny, no," Hermione says. "We're in here because of He-Who—because of _him_. Not you. He _used_ you. I've read a lot of books on the First Wizarding War, Ginny and he's used a lot of people. Aurors, Muggles, students, Healers… That doesn't put any of them at fault for the things he's done using them, does it? Right, so if it doesn't put them at fault, it doesn't put you at fault. No harm came, did it?"

Ginny shakes her head.

"No, it didn't. It's over now, isn't it? And you'll come to us if anything like that happens again?"

Ginny nods.

"Then you don't have anything to be sorry about, not in the slightest."

George smiles as his sister and Hermione hug once more. He catches Fred eye from across the bed and they nod at one another—an acknowledgement that things are returning back to normal, that things are okay again, that they've made it through.

* * *

_I have a massive project coming up, so I won't be able to proof chapter three for about another week and a half at the very least, but it'll likely be more of the same time frame- around 3 weeks. It **might** be a month this time, but I'm hoping not. _


	3. her eyes are tired (nobodys on her side)

_I am so, so sorry for the delay. I've been sick, finishing up school, and now I'm heading out on vacation. Life has been so hectic lately and I'm just? so sorry. _

_Please let me say now that I adore all of you- all of the comments, follows, favorites... everything. I appreciate you all so much, and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this fic. I hope you continue to enjoy it! _

* * *

_Dearest friend o'Mione,_

_We write to regretfully inform you of our recent earnings_

_ That's a lie. We are not regretful in informing you that dad has won 700 galleons. We're taking a family trip to Egypt to visit Bill. We'll be there nearly the entire summer. Mum said Errol is coming but isn't to be used unless of emergencies, and international owl post is so bloody expensive. _

_ We __do__ regretfully inform you that because of that, we won't be able to stay in touch this summer. We're leaving in a week's time, so we won't have time enough to send Errol again. _

_ I hope your summer goes well, and we'll send word as soon as we know when we'll be in Diagon Alley._

_ Best, _

_ George and Fred _

*\

_ Dearest twins, _

_ Congratulations to you and your family! That's exciting. Learn as much as you can about wizarding culture and history in Egypt. I'll have plenty of questions for when you return. _

_ Mum and Dad are taking me to France this summer, so we would have had a hard time keeping in touch either way. Now we'll have plenty to talk about when we see each other again. _

_ I'll also be spending my entire summer assuring them that Hogwarts is a safe place. A basilisk petrifies me one time and they want to pull me from the school! (They don't seem to grasp the idea that the basilisk is __dead__ now and cannot do any further harm.) Wish me luck. _

_ Love from _

_ Hermione _

*\

They meet in the Leaky Cauldron, because that's where Harry is supposed to be. Summer has gone by slowly. It was full of letters and text books and bickering with her mum and dad about how Hogwarts _was_ safe, and her being petrified was something that was a freak accident. The entire summer fades, along with her muggle life once she sees her friends.

Fred smiles at her, and though George is smiling too, Fred's seems out of place. It's overwhelming to look at and makes her stomach flip. Instead of trying to find where it would fit into a muggy, crowded pub, she gives him one of her own before pulling him in to a hug. After he releases her, she hugs George, and then moves over to greet the other Weasleys. While she's with Ron her mum gets and overenthusiastic greeting from both of the twins, much to the confusion of Ron and Mr. Weasley.

"So good to see you again, Jane," Fred says as he pulls her in to a hug.

She laughs, hugging him back. "You as well, Mr. Weasley. And also you, Mr. Weasley," she smiles at George, who brings her in to another hug.

"And you, Mr. Ganger," George smiles charmingly. "Nice to see you."

Her dad nods at them once, but then is captured by Mr. Weasley and pulled away, so their greetings don't go any further. Fred grimaces. "How long d'you reckon he'll survive?"

"He made it almost forty-five minutes last year," Hermione's mum says, tilting her head.

"Think he'll make it longer this year?" George asks.

"How much more could your father have to ask about?"

Fred and George looked at each other. Fred hums. "Depends on how your husband answers the questions. He might be giving Dad more questions without meaning to."

"Oh, dear. Remind me to save him later."

Hermione frowns. "Why later?"

"I'm too worried that I'll be absorbed in to the conversation if I interrupt too early."

Fred tosses his head back and laughs. George grins. "Keep up those smarts and you might just survive the Weasley family yet."

Hermione's mum smiles at the twins. She then drifts off to speak with Mrs. Weasley. Ron is caught in a conversation with Percy, who is explaining the duties he'll hold as Head Boy (Hermione is sure Ron has already heard this speech, as she can see his eyes glaze over). While her attention is stuck on Ron and Percy, George grabs her shoulder and guides her towards the bar. Fred smiles at the employee and asks for three butterbeers. They receive their drinks and move to a booth in the corner.

"I see you're trying to be modest and not show off your Prefect badge, George," Hermione teases, sliding in to the booth across from him.

George snorts into his drink. "Kenneth got it by default," he says as he sets the cup down in front of him.

"Now—hang on," Fred says, "why am _I_ not the one you'd assume had gotten the badge?"

Hermione levels him with a look. "I don't think that's a question that needs an answer."

George beams and looks to Fred. "The answer is clearly that 'Mione likes me better."

"'Mine!" Fred moans, dramatizing it with a hand clutched to his chest. "How could you? With my own brother."

"Which bro—"

"My own _twin_," he corrects himself quickly.

Hermione turns her eyes on George and makes what she hopes is a dreamy face. "How could I _not?_ He's so handsome—"

"I'm handsomer!"

"—and funny—"

"I'm funnier!"

"—and sweet—"

"I'm sweet too!"

"—and kind—"

Fred hesitates. "I'm kind of kind."

"—and doesn't feel the need to defend himself against his twin."

"Idon't feel the need to—" he stops, thinks back on Hermione's words. "Got me there."

Hermione laughs. "When have I not got you?"

George snorts into his drink, yet again. "Yeah, Fred, when has she not?"

Fred laughs, but it sounds just a bit off. He looks over to Mrs. Weasley, and then back. "Will you be going with Ron to find Harry?"

"I think so, yes. My parents are leaving for home soon. They arranged me to stay with Ginny and your mum before tomorrow."

"Mum is making us stick with her," Fred sighs. "They've saved up enough from the winnings so me and George each get our own set of books because they think having to share a set is why we've been getting poor marks."

"Maybe you can go tell her that's not the case," George says.

Hermione takes another sip of her drink. She quirks an eyebrow at them.

"Yeah, didn't think you would," George admits.

The conversation is steered towards Egypt then, and they pull out a stack of three books and wish Hermione a happy early birthday. "Just don't ask us about Egyptian wizarding history. We did not pay attention to half of what Bill said."

"We were too busy trying to hold the tomb with Percy in it shut," George says.

"Charlie and Bill were too scared of mum to perform a sticking spell on the door, so mum caught us and Percy walked free," Fred finishes.

"I can't believe you!" she says. She's not quite sure if it's about the books or the shutting Percy in a tomb. By the tone she can hear in her voice, it sounds like the gratitude for the books is winning.

George doesn't miss it either; especially not once she starts flipping through the pages of _Mummies and Magic_. He grins at her from across the table. "Don't thank us too much. That's more of a trade off for when we win the Sorting trophy tomorrow."

"Don't be so sure about that," Hermione says. "I'll still be winning, and I'll be keeping these books when I do."

*\

"I can't believe you missed the sorting," George complains the next day.

"Personally I think that means we win by default," Fred says.

"You do _not!_" Hermione huffs. "For this year, Angelina will hold on to the trophy. _Neither_ of us has won."

Angelina smiles. She reaches over and plucks the trophy from the table and tucks it away in her robes. "I'm the real winner this year, because I didn't have to listen to you two argue over 'Mione cheating."

"Hermione cheating in what?" Ron asks, food spilling from his lips.

Angelina brings the trophy back out and shows it to Ron and Harry. "Each year Fred and George face off against Hermione to see who can sort the most first years into the right House. Hermione's won two years in a row, so your brothers think she's cheating. We made this trophy for last year because the twins thought they were going to win and wanted something to hold over Hermione literally."

Ron pauses in stuffing his face. "Why have I never heard about this?"

"Well, you were one of the last ones sorted your first year," Alicia says.

"And you crashed into the Whomping Willow last year," Lee adds. "So you haven't been around to see it."

"So you're still blissfully unaware of how much of a blatant cheater 'Mine is," Fred says. He narrows his eyes at her. She stares back. "See? She's not even denying it!"

"We'll see next year, won't we?"

George scoffs. "Yeah, Granger. We will, if you don't—"

"I won't cheat!"

Katie smiles. "She doesn't cheat. Your brothers are just poor losers."

There's yelling then, a loud argument between the twins, Katie, and Angelina, and Hermione can't help the giggles that bubble in her throat. She sees Ron and Harry staring at her from her peripheral vision and she looks to them and shrugs. Lee is shaking his head, watching his two best friends argue a losing battle.

They abandon their bickering soon enough to finish their dinner. When they've all finished, they leave to head up to their tower as a large group. Hermione thinks this may be the longest span of time that the entire group of her friends has spent together in the past two years. As she hears Alicia talking to Harry about the upcoming Quidditch season, and Ron being pestered by Ginny, Fred, and George, she thinks that she likes this.

*\

She likes it even more when it carries in to the next morning, when all of them sit together at breakfast as well. She gets her new schedule and looks it over, but doesn't get the chance to take it in as Ginny starts poking at her and asking about Harry's fainting episode on the train with concern. As breakfast carries on, it becomes more and more chaotic and she can't hear what half of her friends are saying to her as the others talk over everyone, but she's happy to see them all meshing—at least as much as she could hope. Ron and Harry still mostly talk to one another, but Katie engages them both in talks about Quidditch, and Angelina asks about which electives they chose, and Fred and George and Ginny poke fun at their brother with affection in their voices.

When there's finally a down moment, she picks her schedule back up and hums happily. "Oh, good," she says towards Harry and Ron. "We're starting some new subjects today."

"Hermione," Ron's voice says in her ear. He's leaning over to get a closer look at her schedule, "they've messed up your schedule. Look—they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time_."

She sits up straighter. "I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look—see this morning?" he laughs, pointing at her morning block on the schedule. "Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And—_look!_ Underneath that, Arithmancy, _nine o'clock!_ I mean… I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione brushes him off casually, keeping her eyes away from Alicia, Fred, and George. They'd surely pester her much more than Ron was. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well, then—"

"Pass the marmalade," she says, nodding at a jar a bit in front of Ron.

"But—"

Hermione scowls. "Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full? I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Thankfully, she's saved from answering any further questions by the entrance of Hagrid. That doesn't save her from the concerned looks that Fred, Angelina, and Alicia are giving her. She waves them off. They all turn back to their meals, but she knows that they're all going to be hyper aware now out of their concern. This means she's going to have to be extra cautious.

*\

It was hectic, running around the castle and avoiding her friends when she know she'd already seen them during the time which she's traveled back to.

One of the first times she gets to spend time with Fred and George outside of the Great Hall or library is early in October after Ron leaves the common room with a sickly rat. Harry is still over by the fire copying Ron's star chart, so Hermione takes a seat next to Fred. He eyes Crookshanks. "He's not going to attack me, is he?"

Hermione huffs. "He's a cat, he doesn't know better! Besides, Scabbers was sick before I even bought Crookshanks, it's just old age, I'm sure of it."

"You have to admit Crookshanks really doesn't like _Scabbers_ in particular," George says.

"Not that we do either. It's why he went to Ron and not one of us," Fred says. At that, Crookshanks stands up from Hermione's lap and walks over to Fred, purring. He stares at the cat. "Okay, Crooks, do you like me because I'm a good person or because I don't like Scabbers?"

Crookshanks only purrs harder and rubs his face against Fred's hand.

"I'll take that to mean 'both,'" Fred says.

*\

Weekends mean no classes, and no classes mean getting to lock her time turner up in a secure box in her room and not worrying about spending time with her friends. Saturday she spends nearly the entire day down at the lake with the twins, Lee, and the girls before spending the evening and night studying and getting ahead on her assignments. Sunday, Halloween, she gets to spend with Ron. Alicia and Fred offer to show them around Hogsmeade, but Ron rolls his eyes and declines. Despite how much Hermione would love to spend the day with them, she doesn't want to put Ron in an uncomfortable position.

Hogsmeade is just as wonderful as she thought it'd be. She and Ron run around the town, going through every door that is unlocked and looking at everything they possibly can. They sit in the Three Broomsticks with Seamus, Dean, and Neville for a while, drinking butterbeer that she can feel down to her toes. They wander around Dervish and Banges, Tomes and Scrolls, Sprintwitches Sporting Needs—_everywhere_. It's incredible, she thinks, and she still can't believe this is the world she lives in now.

They stop at Honeydukes last. She's glad they did, because she feels like other shops would have paled in comparison to this. There were different colors every where you looked, elaborate shelves that brought product down to the younger and shorter customers, samples of sugary sweets set out at the end of every aisle and along the bottom of every wall. The baskets they held expanded when they got to full—but not on the outside, just the inside (she makes a mental note of this; her school bag is over flowing). By the time they make it to the counter, she's almost worried they won't have enough money to pay for all that they gathered (they do).

Once they've paid, they hurry back to the castle, chatting all the while. Hermione is glad that they did this—went out just the two of them. She's always had a nagging doubt in the back of her head that Ron still didn't like her, especially now that she has a cat that chases his rat, but today has proved her wrong. He's still laughing at one of her jokes when they make it back to the castle, and his face is almost as red as his hair.

At dinner she reunites with her other friends, and they join her, Ron, and Harry. They all spend the feast yelling over one another, the Weasleys (sans Percy) all rolling their eyes at one another, and eating until they felt like they would be sick. It feels like the perfect day until she finds herself back in the Great Hall, this time with fear hanging over their heads rather than joy.

She busies herself with preparing her sleeping bag in a corner where no one else has claimed yet. Harry and Ron settle their bags near hers.

"Mind if we join you?" Alicia asks, hugging a sleeping bag to her chest. The rest of their group of friends are arguing over the pile of sleeping bags—Lee wants a red one and refuses a silver because it's one of Slytherin's colors. "Or are you guys going to be discussing _things?_"

Hermione glances at Harry and Ron. Harry looks cautious. "I'm going to tell them everything, anyways," Hermione admits.

Harry shrugs. "I suppose."

"But do _they_ have to join as well?" Ron grumbles, eyeing his twin brothers who are walking over with Lee, Angelina, and Katie now.

Alicia smirks. "Great!"

"What's great?" Angelina wonders, coming up behind them now.

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione have allowed us to be in their presence for the night," Alicia says.

Fred and George bow simultaneously. "Why thank you," Fred says, attempting the most proper accent he can manage.

"Honored to be in your company this eve," George copies Fred.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Set up your sleeping bags." She turns her attention to Harry. "Do you think Black's still in the castle?"

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," Ron says.

Alicia settles in to her sleeping bag on Hermione's right. "I think probably, but if he got in as easily as he did, he could have gotten out just as easily."

"If he was still in the castle when we found out, there's not a chance he could get out easily," Fred offers as he slips into his sleeping bag, to the left of Hermione.

George, on the other side of Fred, nods in agreement. "There's seven tunnels in and out of Hogwarts that we've found, and we're pretty sure they are the only ones. Filch knows about four of them, one is caved in, one is beneath the Whomping Willow… That leaves him one choice, and he'd need a spell to access it…" He freezes.

"Unless he knows that spell," Lee frowns at George's obvious realization, having lain down next to Ron.

Fred shakes his head. "There's no way." His voice is confident but his eyes are wary. "He'd have to break in and out of Honeydukes as well. There were a few dementors on the outskirts and hundreds of people there. He couldn't have even _gotten_ to Honeydukes."

"I'm just glad no one was there," Katie speaks up.

Now Hermione frowns, thinking on the odds of that. "Yes. It really is very lucky he picked tonight, you know. The… one night we weren't in the tower…"

"I reckon he's lost track of time—being on the run. Must not've realized it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here," Ron says.

From around them, Hermione can hear other students tossing theories out on how Sirius Black managed to make it in to the castle. She can see all of her friends looking off—clearly listening as well.

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate—just appear out of thin air, y'know?"

"Disguised himself, probably."

"He could've flown in."

Hermione huffs, annoyed at the student body's suggestions. "Honestly," she says, "am I the _only_ person who's ever bothered to read _Hogwarts: A History?_"

"Probably," Ron says.

"Yes," Fred, George, and Angelina say at the same time. Katie snorts from her place beside Lee.

Hermione rolls her eyes at them. "Because the castle's protected by more than walls, you know. There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see the disguise that could fool those dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in too. And apart from _your_ secret passage…"

"The lights are going out now!" Percy yells. Fred and George groan next to her. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

Hermione sighs, but turns over in her sleeping bag so she's lying on her back. The others follow suit and the candles are all put out with a quick flick of a wand. Whispering can still be heard coming from every part of the Great Hall—echoing around Hermione, leaving her unsettled.

She stares up at the ceiling—enchanted to look like the night sky—and thinks.

Something nudges against her hand, making her jump. When she turns to see what it is, Fred's pinky is curling around her index finger, dragging her arm closer to his. He pulls his pinky away and puts his hand on her forearm. She looks up at his face, and he's staring at her with a look of fear. It's so unusual to see him look _scared_ that she's thrown off. She scoots closer and turns on her side.

"Fred?" she says, as hushed as she can. No one reacts around her, so she thinks she did okay.

"Last year you got petrified," he murmurs, "now there's a killer on the loose, _in Hogwarts_, and you're his target's best friend and—"

"Fred," she soothes, trying her best to use her voice alone to calm him. Ron and Harry shift in their sleeping bags and she's willing to bet they're looking at Hermione and, by extension, Fred. "We're all in this huge Hall, there's no way Black would attack here and now."

"But in general—"

"We'll talk about that later. For tonight, just go to sleep, yeah?"

There's a long pause, and then, "yeah. G'night, 'Mine."

*\

"Please, most wonder friend o'Mione," George begins as he slides into the seat beside her at lunch, "_please_ tell us how it happened."

Hermione looks up from her book. The rest of the group is settling around them. She frowns at George. "How what happened?"

"The _bedpans_," Fred says. "Ron has to clean out the _bedpans_."

"Oh," Hermione frowns. "I'd rather not."

"What?" Lee asks as he slams his hands down on the table from George's other side. He leans forward so he can see Hermione. "We should not suffer the horrors of not knowing just because we're older and therefore in a different class!"

Katie rolls her eyes. "Shut it, Lee. She doesn't need to tell us a thing."

Fred bumps Hermione with his shoulder. "We could always ask Lavender if you'd rather not say."

"Oh, Merlin, no. I'd rather talk about it than let her tell you." She shifts in her seat. With a quick glance up to the staff table where Professor Snape can be found shifting his food around his plate wearing a face filled with disgust, Hermione sighs. "Professor Snape stood in for Professor Lupin today. He asked a question, I raised my hand, he didn't call on me, and I answered anyways. He ended up taking points and calling me an 'insufferable know-it-all.' So Ron yelled at him."

It's silent.

Then, well. It's not.

Everyone has something to say—yell, to be more accurate—and they don't bother taking turns. Hermione is left trying to pick out who calls Professor Snape a tosser, who questions his right to even be teaching, or who goes on about hiding dung bombs in his classroom (though just through the content of that last complaint, it's not hard to decipher who could have said it). After a minute or two, Hermione slams a hand down on the table, gathering their attention immediately. Everyone looks at her, and she doesn't think she's ever seen the girls look so mad.

"Calm down, please," she says. Looking around, she can see that they've gained the attention from multiple groups from at least all four tables. "It's over, it's done, Ron wrongfully got a detention and now I feel awful."

"Don't," Katie says, a scowl set deep on her face. "You didn't do anything wrong, Ron didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes people are just awful and Snape is an _awful_ person."

"I can't believe I have to feel bad about Ron's detention," George complains.

"I can't believe I'm going to _thank him_ later for getting detention," Fred joins.

"Aw," Alicia coos, "are you scared your little brother is going to know you actually appreciate and care about him?"

"Yes," Fred says, deadpan. Hermione huffs and shoves him over, and then he's complaining for an entirely different reason.

*\

"Hermione? Why on earth did the twins thank me for getting a detention for you?" Ron asks later that night as they walk back to Gryffindor Tower from the Great Hall.

Hermione shrugs. "They do appreciate people who do things for their friends."

"They didn't even mock me for having to clean out the bedpans!"

"They appreciate what you did. All of my friends do. I do, too. I'm just sorry you were given detention over it."

Ron blinks, and shares a confused look with Harry. "Right."

She doesn't hear anything further on the subject.

*\

"C'mon, don't worry, 'Mine," Fred says.

"Pomfrey would have told us by now if he was dead or dying," George reassures her (unsuccessfully, might she add).

"You don't _know_ that," Hermione says, tears still fighting to break free.

"Yes, we do," George says. "You forget—we were the ones waiting for you last year. She may not be able to tell us everything, but she does tell us enough. If something were seriously wrong she would have told us by now."

As if she'd been summoned, Madam Pomfrey comes out from behind the curtain just then. Hermione's heart jumps to her throat. "Oh, is he going to be alright?" Hermione asks anxiously.

"He'll be just fine," the old woman says. "He'll be waking up soon, so you can all… go and wait for him, I suppose." She looks at the team, minus Oliver, plus Hermione and Ron. She's clearly not entirely pleased, but Hermione doesn't know if this is because of the mud, the amount of people, or the overall reminder of Quidditch. Either way, Hermione doesn't care. She hurries past the curtain to Harry's bed.

The others fall in to place around her, and she barely hears the words they're saying. Not until someone elbows her, at least. She turns and sees George smiling soft at her. "But he didn't even break his glasses," he says. She wants to point out that her impervius charm would not have prevented his glasses from breaking, but then, immediately after Angelina mentions how scary it had been, Harry's eyes open.

Hermione wants to say something—do something—but she's frozen. Relief flows through her and she lets the tears she'd been holding back fall.

"Harry!" Fred says from next to her. "How are you feeling?"

Harry doesn't answer, just looks confused for a moment before shooting up. Hermione flinches away from him and Fred's hand goes to the span between her shoulder blades to steady her. "What happened?" Harry asks.

"You fell off. Must've been—what?—fifty feet?"

Alicia nods at Fred's words. She's staring at Harry with wide eyes. Hermione can see her friend's hands trembling at her sides. "We thought you'd died," she admits. Hermione tries to bite back a gasp, but it comes out as a whine instead. Fred's hand moves from her back to one of her shoulders and squeezes. Katie grabs her hand and twines their fingers together. She still doesn't feel okay.

They continue talking about the game, and Hermione wants to scream when Harry is more concerned about whether or not they lost the game rather than the fact that he quite possibly could have lost his _life_.

That weekend feels like the longest of Hermione's life. She spends the entire time with Ron and Harry in the infirmary. Harry slowly stops caring about the fact that Gryffindor lost the match, and slowly, slowly starts looking more concerned and afraid. While Hermione doesn't want Harry to need to be either concerned or afraid, she's glad that he at least seems to have a shred of self-preservation left even if it seems to be hidden beneath his drive to win.

*\

The last Saturday of the term was another rare day where Hermione got to sit with both groups of her friends. They all would be walking over to Hogsmeade together, sans Harry, so they all decided to sit together at breakfast. It happens, sometimes. The Weasleys _are_ siblings and while they may not be the best of friends, they're still a tight knit family, which now includes Harry as well. She _had_ been excited for it, but then Ron reaches over the table and tries to steal her already buttered piece of toast and when she stops him—

"C'mon, 'Mine."

Fred cuts off the conversation he'd been having with Lee and frowns at his younger brother. His eyes narrow. "What did you just call her?"

"Uh-oh," Katie murmurs as she pats Ron on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Ron looks between Katie and Fred and then the rest of the table. "What? Don't you guys call her 'Mine? What's the matter with calling her that?"

"Fred is the only one who can call her that," Alicia explains. "As the nickname implies, he's possessive."

Fred lets out a dramatic gasp. "I am not possessive! I just think that if I have a name like _'Mine_ for 'Mine, it should be _mine_."

"Just listen to him," Hermione says with an eye roll. She takes a bite out of the toast that Ron had been trying to snag. "Two and a half years and he hasn't budged on this, and I'm too scared of what he'll do if I let anyone else use it."

"What?" Ron says. "So Fred is the only person who ever has called you 'Mine?"

"George tried once," Hermione says.

"It was the first time I tasted the bitterness of betrayal from my own twin," George says darkly. Like a switch, his face lightens up and he grins wide. "It was also the first time we realized Hermione swears at us when she's mad."

"Why is it only Fred that can call you 'Mine?"

"Because she's mine. And not like—not 'Mine, as in her name. But mine as in she belongs to me," Fred grins teasingly. He throws an arm around her shoulder. "I am also hers, but she can't get any cute nickname from my name. Also stop calling her 'Mine."

Hermione rolls her eyes and shoves Fred over, right in to Lee who yelps as he spills a spoonful of stew down his robes. She gasps, apologizing to him. The conversation moves on as Lee complains about having to change before leaving, and Fred and George telling Lee that they'll wait for him if the others want to leave. Ron doesn't bring up the nickname again.

*\

"How. Stupid. _Are you?_" Hermione hisses once she gets back that night. Fred and George are sitting in the corner, bent over a piece of parchment that has been scribbled on over and over again. She doesn't even look at it, knowing that it's likely a prank and it runs the risk of making her even more upset.

Fred looks up. "Very, probably. What did we do?"

"You gave the map to Harry? When a convicted murderer is out looking for him?"

"Aw, c'mon 'Mione," George says. "It'd be impossible to find Harry out in a crowd like that, and if he had the crowds would have just made it impossible to follow Harry."

"It would certainly _not_ be impossible, and we know that Sirius Black has no mind for bystanders, don't we? You could have gotten not only Harry, but Ron and I and anyone else who was near us _killed!_" Hermione says. Both of them pale considerably. They clearly hadn't thought it through. "I know you feel bad for him but there is a _reason_ McGonagall and Dumbledore won't let him leave the castle!"

"'Mine…"

"No, don't. Just… be smarter. We all know you're some of the brightest students here. I'm sure whatever is on that piece of parchment can prove that. So please, for Harry's sake act like it."

"Of course," George nods. "We're sorry."

Fred agrees. He grabs her arm and pulls her into the chair beside him, so she's half on the arm rest, half falling on to his lap. She shoves at him until he moves over. When they're both situated, he looks at her. "You know we didn't mean to put him at risk, right? We wouldn't—I promise we wouldn't be _that_ dull and put him in danger if we had thought of that. We really thought—"

"I know," she says. "I know. I just want you to think of these things."

"We'll try," George tells her.

"Thank you. Now—would you like to tell me what you're working on or would you rather hear about what we learned about Sirius Black first?"

*\

Christmas break passes quickly, but not smoothly. When Harry receives his Firebolt and Hermione speaks with McGonagall, her two friends turn against her and she's left alone. She visits Hagrid once (twice, a few times), and spends time in the library to avoid their angered looks and is glad when the rest of the school returns and she's not alone. Their first night back Fred and Alicia accompany her to the library and she's relieved to not have to travel all the way to Hagrid's just to have any company.

She still goes to see Hagrid despite her other friends being back. She's helping him with Buckbeak, and he's also someone who has just as much stock in keeping Harry alive as she does, so he isn't angry with her for trying to protect Harry. The rest of them, however—

Hermione has just reached the castle when she finds him. He's lying on his stomach on one of the benches just inside the castle, and it seems he's been waiting for her. When he sees her he perks up and closes the book he was reading (Hermione can tell from the spine that it is one of the magic theory books she's lending him) and tucks it in his bag once he's standing upright.

"Hey," she smiles, and he greets her back.

They start walking together down the hall when he slips an arm around her shoulders. She leans in to his side. "Where were you? Nearly Headless Nick told me you left over here."

"Hagrid's," she says. "Why?"

"I barely saw you before the holidays except for when you were yelling at us, and you were too busy studying in the library last night to talk," he shrugs. "Plus, I've heard some things."

"What things?"

"Did you _really_ get Harry's _Firebolt_ taken?" Fred asks.

Hermione's head falls forward so she's staring at the floor, and she stops walking. "Ugh, not you, too."

He pulls his arm back from her frozen form. "I'm sorry, but you do understand what a Firebolt is, don't you?"

She picks her head up and glares at Fred. "I _do_, thank you. So I hope _you_ realize how curious it is that Harry happens to have been sent the newest, fastest, most efficient broom stick anonymously whilst a wanted murderer—who is clever enough to not only break _out_ of Azkaban, but also break _in_ to Hogwarts—is on the loose." Fred's annoyance has melted off his face, and he's now left looking dumbstruck. "Exactly," she says. "Everyone seems to be asking me to apologize for caring about Harry's safety and _life_. If it means you guys winning a Quidditch match over the risk of losing Harry's life, I'm sorry. I can't support that."

"That's… alright." Fred relents. "I'm sorry. It's—it's a Firebolt and I hadn't even thought about all the… other stuff, as you must know by now." He flashes a smirk. "So sorry for doubting you, Professor o'Mione."

"It's fine," Hermione says, smiling at the nickname. That one has become common for when she's clearly outsmarted her friends. It's not a bad name to be called—doesn't have the same condescending tone as 'know-it-all' and has never been used maliciously. "I'd love to be proven wrong, it's just something I'm not willing to risk. Can you tell your brother that I'm not out to get Harry? I am tired of being targeted for trying to protect my friends. Neither of them have been speaking to me."

"Ha! You ask me that as if you believe he'll listen to me any better than he will you."

She reaches over and links her arm in his as they reach the steps to the quad. "See, the difference is, you like Quidditch and are on the team. He'd listen better because this matters more to you than to me."

"You over estimate Ronnikin's trust in me, assuming there's any trust at all," he tells her. He's smiling down at her but there's something different in his face. She can't place it, but it's nothing bad. He seems… _lighter_, like he's weightless, today. Right now. It makes her feel like she's floating, as well.

"Where's George?" she wonders. It's not that they're never a part—Fred often chooses to study in the comfort of the library with Hermione, Alicia, and Katie, while George prefers the chaos of the common room with Lee, Angelina, and Ginny. Fred frequently visits the training grounds to fire hexes and spells at the dummies, while George often can be found flying at the Quidditch Pitch if he's separated from his twin. They're separate units, is the thing. Most people at the school don't understand and can't process that fact, but they can, do, and will spend time separate from each other. Just not all that often.

"He's at the library for a Defense essay that had been assigned for break," he answers her question nonchalantly. "It's due tomorrow. Lee and Angelina are with him."

"And _your_ Defense essay is…?"

"Done," he shrugs, the movement of his arm tugging Hermione's with it until she's another inch closer to her friend. "I worked on it yesterday with Alicia when we were in the library."

"Oh. Maybe you studying in the library is a good thing, then. You should tell George to join us more often, maybe you'll both get better marks."

"No one said my essay would get good marks."

"Excuse me?" Hermione says, stopping in her tracks, yet again. "Why would you—what's the point of even doing the essay if you're not going to do it properly?"

Fred purses his lips. "Poor marks are better than failing marks?"

"Wha- _Fred!_" Hermione gasps. She dives for his school bag. He tugs it away from her and moves it so it's above his head, far out of her reach. She's never hated her height more than she does now. "Let me see your essay!"

"No!" he says, and starts running down the hall, bag still with the bag high in the air. "I don't _want_ good marks!"

Hermione huffs, and pulls out her wand. She _accio_'s the school bag, and Fred freezes when it flies out of his hand. He turns around to see her wiggling her wand. "Maybe if you wanted good marks you'd remember that we happen to have _magic_. Then maybe you would have been successful."

"I remember that perfectly fine, I _did_ grow up with it," he says, walking back towards her, watching as she digs through his bag. "I thought maybe after you tried to take it with physical force you'd forgotten."

"Sure you did," she laughs. She pulls out all the scrolls of parchment she can find and glances at each one. "'_Fianto Duri and its practical uses._' Wow, you didn't even make your hand writing three times its normal size."

"Lupin actually makes class interesting," Fred says defensively. "The essays aren't horrible to do."

The essay is good, is the thing. It's well researched, well thought out, and well written. "I imagine if you paid attention in all of your classes that none of the essays would be horrible to do."

"Maybe not," he says. He grabs his bags and the other scrolls from Hermione to slip back in his bag, but allows her to continue reading the Defense essay. "The thing about paying attention in boring classes and doing well in boring classes is that if you do it for long enough, there are expectations. I can't meet those expectations all the time. People haven't liked when we haven't met their expectations in the past, so it's not worth giving any of the professors a reason to expect… anything."

It's sad, the way his voice lilts on the word 'expectations.' Like he'd had too many negative run ins with the word to view it in a positive light anymore. Hermione knows that feeling. She rolls the essay back up and hands it to him. "Regardless of what is or isn't expected of you, you're still the smartest wizard I know."

Fred scoffs as they start walking again. "You have met my brother, right? Percy? The bushy red head that you sat with half of first year?"

"Percy hasn't ever created his own potion. He's not developing his own spells. He's book smart, yes, and one of the brightest wizards in this castle. But you—you and George both. You're _smart_. I learn loads from both of you, and _I_ don't expect anything from you except to be my friend."

His expression softens, and the look that he'd had mere minutes before is back. This time, his eye light with something new. Something—maybe not new. It looks familiar, but it isn't something that Hermione can place, so she calls it new. He tosses his arm around her once more. "That's an expectation I can live up to."

*\

"Alright," Fred says, dropping in to the seat next to Hermione just over a week later.

She jumps, startled, and looks up at him. "Merlin, Fred! You scared me!"

"I called your name three times."

Hermione frowns. "You did? Oh, Fred, I'm sorry. I've just got so much work to do—"

"Right. That's why I'm interrupting."

"Pardon me?"

Fred sucks in a deep breath and then leans his body forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He glances at her pile of books and then at her. His face is exasperated. "'Mine, you can't do this to yourself. I don't know _how_ you're doing it, and I'm not sure if I _want_ to know—" he pauses. "No, nope. Forget I said that, I definitely do want to know—but! You shouldn't be. You're not… It's too hard on you, 'Mine. You don't have anything to prove, you—"

"Well _apparently_ I have to prove it's not too hard on me," she snaps, glaring at Fred openly. How could he think that she couldn't handle this? She's been handling this since September and she's been plenty successful!

Fred groans, and his head falls into his hands. "No! That's _not_ what—"

"I don't _care_ what you meant, I _care_ what you implied!"

His head whips up again, jaw dropped open. "I didn't imply anything!"

Hermione scoffs. She picks up her bag—one that she worked with Professor Flitwick on, to expand to hold all of her books but not grow bigger—and begins shoving her books in to it. "You implied that it was too much. You implied I couldn't do it. You _said_ I couldn't do it!"

"I said you couldn't do _this_ to _yourself!_" Fred argues. His voice is laced with anger and it's the first time Hermione has ever had that anger directed at her. It's unsettling. By the time she even registers it, he's speaking again, in a gentle voice. "You're doing too much, even for you, 'Mione. I've barely seen you lately. You've been missing meals, running all over the castle somehow, you clearly aren't getting enough sleep…"

She freezes, half way to loading another handful of books into her back. "Even for me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're brilliant, but—"

"Does it? Or does it mean that all I care about is school and—"

"_What?_ No! 'Mine, why would I of all people—"

"Of all people?"

"I'm your best friend!"

"But you're not my _only_ friend!"

"When did I say I was? Merlin, you're losing your head," Fred huffs. "I'm just trying to help."

"Maybe you should wait until your assistance is asked for," Hermione says.

Fred stares at her, eyebrows raised. He's frowning, and his eyes aren't soft like they usually are. "I guess I should," he says. He nods at her bag. "Don't bother packing up then, I'm on my way out. Guess I'll wait until you need my—my _assistance_."

Her voice is dull as she says, "please do." With that, he's up and walking away. She's glaring at his back at he goes, so she doesn't notice someone coming up on her other side—she does notice when they drop heavily in to the seat beside her, however. She spins around, startled, and finds Alicia staring at Fred's retreating back, as Hermione had been doing moments earlier. Alicia gives a low whistle. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to do your linens in public?"

"Oh, sod off," she says, but it's more playful than cruel (she thinks, anyway). She's just so _tired_. She hopes Alicia understands that. "What do you want?"

Alicia frowns. "I just wanted to check in on you."

"Can you check in later? I have… I have two essays due by Monday and I only have the outlines written—_oh_, how have I fallen so behind? We've only been back in classes for a week!"

Alicia takes a moment to take in all of the books spread over the table. "'Mione... How are you in all of these classes? That… _no_ time table would allow that…"

"Mine does," Hermione shrugs, and hopes her tone isn't too short. She needs Alicia to go away. There's so much work to do. "I worked it out with Professor McGonagall over the summer. I _have_ to keep up with the work or she'll think I can't handle it so if you could please just… let me get to work, I'd thank you."

Alicia sighs. "All right. Good luck, I guess."

Hermione thanks her as she said she would and turns back to her runes table and tries to calm her racing brain.

*\

"Why weren't you at lunch?"

Hermione startles, dropping her quill to her paper out of surprise. She picks her head up and finds Ginny sitting across from her. "Oh," Hermione says. She looks at the clock hung on the library's wall. "I didn't realize the time."

Ginny narrows her eyes. "Are you sure it wasn't because of Scabbers?"

"Yes," she huffs, turning her glare to her books. "I'm not going to dwell on that rat's death when Crookshanks had no part in it. I'm very sorry for Ron's loss but it's none of my concern."

Ginny sighs. She pulls out something wrapped from her school bag and passes it across to Hermione. "You need to eat. Classes are hard enough, I know _I_ wouldn't want to go through a school day without having had anything to eat."

If she's being honest, Hermione wasn't really looking forward to finishing out the day without food once Ginny had told her lunch was over, either. "Thank you."

Ginny pulls out the chair across from Hermione. "Hermione, I just wanted you to know that the twins—"

"Oh, Ginny, I don't have time for this. If anything important with them happens I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"But it's about what Fred said Scabbers and Crook—"

"Like I said, Scabbers is no concern of mine." The divination book was staring up at her mockingly. "Whatever Fred has to say or do, I don't care."

"Since when do you not care about what Fred says or does?"

"I do," she says honestly. Even if she's angry with him right now and he's angry with her, she still cares about him. She sighs. "I do, I just don't have—I don't have the time right at this moment."

Ginny blinks. "You don't have time for your best friend?"

"No, that's not—I don't even know where we stand with each other right now, but if he's not injured or in trouble, I—I _really_ need to get this assignment done. I have three other essays that I have to finish before classes on Monday and I don't have the time for this kind of stuff."

Ginny doesn't say anything as she pushes herself out of her seat and walks away. Hermione considers calling after her to apologize for a moment, but in the corner of her eye she sees the stack of books she's working from and makes a mental note to find her friend later and apologize then.

*\

"Did you even come to the match?" Harry's voice asks.

She doesn't look up—too focused on the text in front of her. "Of course I did, and I'm very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," Harry says, and it sounds desperate. That's how everyone's voice has been around her lately—desperate. Well, either that or very, very delicate, like if they speak too loud or with any sort of inflection in their voice Hermione will break. She thinks they may be right.

"I can't, Harry," she says, finally looking up. She still feels that her left hand is holding much less weight than her right—a reminder that she's still got so much more reading left to do. Not that she needs a reminder—she's been counting down with every page she flips. She knows exactly how much more she has to read. "I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read. Anyway—I don't think anyone really wants me to join in."

Harry looks to Ron, and Hermione does as well, but she also lets her eyes fall to Fred and George. Neither of them are looking at her—neither of them have _been_ looking at her for nearly a month now. Sure, she might catch George's eye sometimes when Fred leads him in a different direction, but she hasn't seen Fred looking in her direction since four days after they fought when she seemingly ignored him one too many times.

The thing is, she knows Fred was her best friend, even more so than George and Alicia and Harry. As strange as others found it, they just fit together seamlessly. He brings out the goofiness in her while she brings out the studiousness in him, and they… work. She hadn't realized how much he had helped her though. It was hard to get through school leading up to Christmas break but she had been okay. She'd been sane. She knew that was largely due to Fred and Alicia but—

"If Scabbers hadn't just been _eaten_ he could have had some of those Fudge Flies," Ron says loudly and Hermione's eyes flick to him. "He used to really like them—"

She focuses back on Fred and George who are each holding three bottles of Butterbeer for no apparent reason as far as she can tell. George's eyes find her and he looks almost apologetic. Fred just nods at Ron and—honestly, that's it for her. All of her work holding herself is undone and tears fall from her eyes. She slams her book shut and hurries from the room.

When she reaches her dorm, the only person there is Sally, who takes one look at Hermione and then excuses herself so she can attend the party. Hermione waits for the door to close behind the girl before falling to her mattress, drawing the curtains, and letting her tears fall freely.

It's too much. It's too hard on her, just like Fred had told her all those weeks ago. She's not fooling herself in to thinking that everything is all right. She had tried to convince both Fred and Alicia of that and it just ended up costing her the two best friends she'd ever had. No more lying.

"Hermione?"

Hermione freezes. She hadn't heard the door open.

"It's Ginny, 'Mione."

She grabs her wand and casts a few quick spells to clean up her face so she doesn't look like she'd just been crying (so, okay, a bit more lying). She opens her curtain. "Hello."

Ginny eyes her. "I heard you crying when I came in. Cleaning your face up isn't going to do anything to make me think you weren't crying."

Hermione frowns. "Oh. Well, I just—"

"You didn't _just_ anything, Hermione," Ginny sighs. She moves to sit on Hermione's bed. "I'm not an idiot, and I don't appreciate being treated as one."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I can't talk about it, though. I can cry about it, and I can be upset about it, but talking about it is something I just _can't_ do. Not right now."

"Then let me be upset and cry with you, yeah?"

Hermione doesn't want to bring her friend down. She doesn't want her friend to be sad with her, or have to listen to her sobs and deal with her tears. It sounds like a nice offer at the moment though, despite all of that: to have someone sit with her so she's simply not alone. So, she nods and lies back against her pillows, and Ginny follows. There's no words that need to be said as Ginny combs her fingers through frizzy locks and Hermione lets her tears fall once more.

*\

The first time she cried to Hagrid was immediately after her fight with Fred, and when Alicia, Angelina, and Katie stopped talking to her so they could instead give her pitying looks. That may have been the first time, but it's not the last.

She finds herself there again, handing over a scroll of new information that she hopes can help with Buckbeak's case, when Hagrid asks how she's doing. It doesn't take more than that for her tears to start falling. "Surely you've heard about Sirius Black breaking in to the dorms by now," she says, sniffling.

"Eh, yeh," Hagrid says. "Hard ter miss that kinda talk 'round right now."

Hermione nods. It was all _anyone_, even the teachers, talked about for days. "It's just… oh. I know he's still angry at me and Merlin knows I'm not happy with him but _I can't just lose him!_"

"Hey, now," Hagrid says, reaching a giant hand out to pat her shoulder. The weight of a single pat nearly knocks her off the couch. "He's alive an' well. Yeh don't have ter worry abou' losin' him—"

"They haven't caught Black!" she wails, well on her way to being distraught. "I might have to worry about losing him, or Harry, and I _especially_ don't want to lose them when we're all upset with each other!"

"Oh," says Hagrid. He reaches up to scratch his beard. "Well, I'm sure tha' ev'rythin' will be alright, Hermione. We've got some'o the best wizards at Hogwarts an' those ruddy dementers. Won't be long before he's caught, don' you worry abou' that."

Hermione is worried. She doesn't think she'll _stop_ worrying until Black is caught. Making Hagrid worry with her wouldn't accomplish anything, however. That's why, instead of listing all the reasons that she will worry and all the reasons he should worry, she smiles and thanks him.

*\

She leaves Divination class fuming. _No_ good grade is worth sitting through that worthless blabber.

She's not sure where she ends up. It's an empty hallway, one that she's almost certain she hasn't seen before. It's lined with suits of armor and portraits that are talking and singing and yelling at her. She thinks that if she's going to cry in public, it might as well be where no one goes, so she slides down the wall and lets the tears fall.

She wishes she were able to take this bloody time turner and send herself back to the start of the year and ruin the timeline. She knows she could never, but oh, how she wishes she could stop herself from ever deciding to burden herself with all of these classes. The desire to be the best and brightest has clouded her entire mind and led to the dissolution of nearly all of her friendships. There's not even a reason she can think of at this moment that she did this to herself. Because she doesn't know what career she wants to pursue? Because she wants to learn as much as possible? Because she _can?_

None of those are good reasons. None of those are worth the troubles she's faced, the friends she's lost, the time she's wasted. That's exactly what she did, too. She wasted her time. Why did she ever want to take divination in the first place? She had never had an interest in it, and it wasn't even required for _any_ of the careers she was looking in to. The Ministry waved Muggle Studies requirements for any witch or wizard who was raised at least partially in muggle society. There had been no incentive for her to take either of these courses, but she did anyways. And, well. She hates herself for it, at least right at this moment.

She doesn't have a clue about how much time has passed when she hears footsteps and voices. Looking up isn't an option—not when she's just spent Merlin knows how long crying, so she freezes and hope she's off to the side enough that the people walking by won't even recognize her. As their voices draw closer, however, she's sure she won't be so lucky.

"Is that—"

"Yeah. Go on, guys. I've got this."

"Are you positive? I can stick around. I want to make sure she's okay."

"Yeah, Alicia, I'm sure. I'll see if she'll find you after we talk, alright?"

There's a sigh, and then several people walking away, though she can't pick out how many pairs of feet there are. She has no idea how many people have just seen her like… like _this_.

And then there's more footsteps—ones that approach her and stopping several meters in front of her. She looks up. Her breath catches in her throat, but she recovers quick. "I don't want to hear it right now," she says, her voice strong even as more tears track down her face.

"I don't want you to hear me," Fred says as he walks closer. "_I_ want to hear _you_. I want to know what is going on, 'Mine."

And _oh_, the nickname. It's so, so simple, but it makes her cry harder because it's been… well, truthfully she doesn't know how long it's been. Her days have gotten continuously longer and longer as she tried to fit everything in and she doesn't even know what day it is half the time. And his nickname—the one that no one else bothers to use because of his _dumb_ joke about it, which everyone else has taken to heart like she some how is his—just reminds her of him. Maybe even the time that she's missed spending with all of her other friends. But… Fred. Well, Fred has always been a source of security to her. Safe and caring and wonderful—like a protector she had never expected to have.

A protector that she went ahead and lost.

She curls in to herself, sobbing once again. She can't—she won't be around him right now, not when she needs him but can't have him. It's entirely too painful, and she's too exhausted right now. Mentally and physically and emotionally, she's drained and it's so, so hard to function, and so, so hard to be reminded of how horribly everything has gone.

She's lost in her tears and misery until she hears a soft humming. It's then that she's realized Fred has sat down next to her and pulled her in to a tight hug. She's got his robes in one of her hands, fist closed tight around it and surely creasing the fabric.

"Back with me?" Fred mumbles, but she'd really like him to continue humming.

Hermione nods. "I… I don't need you here if you're just here out of pity."

She hadn't realized Fred was stroking her back until his hand came to an abrupt stop. "Is that _really_ what you think of me?"

"I don't know," she answers quietly.

"I'm here because I _care_, 'Mine. I've always cared, and if you—"

Fred's voice breaks off. His hand begins rubbing up and down her back again. The tension in his torso melts away. If there's one thing Hermione can understand right now, it's that he's surrendering. He shouldn't have to.

"I'm sorry," Hermione says. "This is all my fault."

"'Mine…"

"It is, and you all deserve better."

Fred freezes his hand again and the tension returns. "Better than _what?_"

"Me," she says. "Better than someone who cares more about school than her relationships. Someone who doubts her friends. Someone who is too proud to admit she's made a mistake."

"There will _never_ be _anybody_ better than you, Hermione," Fred says fiercely.

She shakes her head. "There are many people better than me."

"Not to me. Never to me," Fred says, but it sounds more like a promise. "Unless we're including myself and George. Then—well. Might be a tie. It's up for debate."

Hermione giggles. She pulls far enough away from his body that she can look up to his face. He's already looking down at her and when their eyes meet, Hermione feels relief flow through her. She feels safe again, as if nothing could break her no matter how it tries. Fred just brings that invincibility out in her.

"I am going to need to know what's going on. You don't have to tell me everything. Just tell me enough that I can stop worrying about you. My grades are suffering because I'm worrying about you too much."

She laughs and it feels like the first time in _ages_ that she's done so. "Because of _me_," she repeats. "Yes, I'm sure that's why your grades are suffering."

"Oh, of course. Can't eat, can't sleep, can't do essays. My worry more effects the last one the most, you know—essays remind me of you because you love them, y'know."

"Well, apologize to your professors for me," Hermione says. She can't tamper the grin down on her face, and she's not sure why she's trying. She's happy. Fred is happy. Fred deserves to be happy. She thinks maybe that she deserves to be happy, too.

"Can we get to what's been going on now?"

She grimaces. There goes that happiness. "I suppose…"

Fred squeezes her in his arms. "Just tell me enough, 'Mine. Tell me the need-to-know."

"If you don't mind, I'll tell you everything because I'd quite like someone to know, but I need a promise from you."

"Anything."

"You're not allowed to tell George. Or anyone else, but I think you understand that if you're not even allowed to tell George. I'm not meant to tell anyone, but I think I need to."

Fred frowns at her, looking more concerned than just a moment ago. "Alright."

"It started at the end of last school year. We had to choose our subjects and I couldn't choose between them," she explains. "I approached Professor McGonagall with a request to take all of them. I had no idea what I'd like or dislike, and I still don't know what career I want to go in to. Taking every class was the only way to keep _every single_ option open.

"She obviously said no, there isn't any way that can be done. All of the classes are arranged in blocks, and I wouldn't be able to attend multiple in one block. I brought up the idea of private lessons, or learning on my own and being able to approach the professors with any questions and still taking the exams at the end of the year. She said that wouldn't do. I asked what it would take, and I supposed that'd when she realized I was really serious about it.

"She asked me a lot of questions. Why I wanted to take the classes, what I wanted to get from each class, how this would be beneficial to me, if I'd be able to handle it. There were more, but those were the ones she was truly concerned about. She brought in Professor Dumbledore, he asked me more questions. They determined I was in a good state of mind and had good intent, and so Professor McGonagall started writing the Ministry. We went home, but she and I kept in contact all summer. Mid-August the Ministry officially issued a time-turner to me, and I picked it up before the feast—that's part of why I missed the Sorting.

"Then classes started. I had a good schedule going—you're not _supposed_ to go back to the same time twice, but because I had knowledge that my future self would be coming back to this time twice, it was much less risky. The problem there was I could not have someone else see two of me at once. So as the term went on I'd disappear because I'd forget who had and hadn't seen me and where I'd been. And then—I was adding nearly ten hours on to some of my days. Eight hours of sleep never seemed like enough but if I slept more I'd lose more time and I was—_am_—already very short on that.

"When everything with Scabbers escalated Ron was looking for every opportunity to blame me. Honestly, I didn't know where Crookshanks was most of the time—I was doing work, and he lets me know whenever he needs something. After that they were angry with me about the Firebolt, and then Crookshanks again. I had been spending less time with you and Alicia and more with Harry and Ron because I was trying to make it up to them and I knew they were most likely to follow me to figure out what was going on. I couldn't risk that. So it started to feel like everyone was against me.

"And then we fought. Or I fought you—I don't really know. I was _awful_ to you when you were just trying to help. But I was having a terrible time keeping up in my classes and I know you didn't mean it to be, but it felt accusatory. Like you thought I couldn't do it. _I_ was starting to think I couldn't do it, so hearing _you_ say it… to hear it out loud. I didn't want to admit it to myself. Everything after that just snowballed. It _really_ felt like everyone was against me. I didn't have you and George, and I didn't have Alicia and Ange and Katie—at least not when I needed them. Ginny was my only friend for a while and Harry—"

"No," Fred interrupts. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I was going to let you get through everything but _no_. George and I have never stopped being your friends, and neither did Alicia, Angelina, and Katie. They were trying to give you your space. You'd been so stressed that they trusted you'd come to them if you needed."

"That's what Ginny said. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve them. I don't deserve _you_."

"Well," Fred says, "I guess this is it. You've officially gone mad. Completely bonkers, really."

"What?"

"If anyone here isn't deserved it's you. Yeah, it's utterly frustrating when you shut yourself off, but I also knew that entire time we weren't speaking that if I had a question, even the most unnecessary question, I could have asked and you would have answered. I know you would have dropped everything, for every one of your classes to help me if I had been upset or needing you. I know you, 'Mine, and I know you're a better person than I could ever hope to be."

"You're—"

"If you're about to compliment me, don't. It's been weeks and I left you all alone just because you were overwhelmed and I didn't like it."

"That is _not_ what happened!" Hermione argues. "As I recall I yelled at you and—"

"Because you were overwhelmed."

"That's no excuse! It's not right for me to yell at you because _I_ had too much going on!"

Fred's quiet for a moment. When he speaks again, he grabs on to her hand and squeezes. "I'm glad you did." She's about to argue some more when he squeezes her hand harder. "You weren't… that wasn't you. And I knew that. Someone else might not have."

"How can you be glad? I was awful to you!"

"I can be glad because you needed to do that, maybe. You lost the plot. That was okay. If you had yelled at Harry or Ron that way, who is to say you'd ever reconcile that friendship?" he asks. "There's no way you're driving me away from you, even if I need to pout for a few weeks."

"You weren't pout—"

"Oh, I was," Fred says. He pokes her side and she yelps in surprise and slides off of his lap and on to the stone floor. As he laughs at her, he explains, "George and Lee wouldn't stop poking fun about it. I've been told to stop pouting every day for almost three months now."

"Oh. Has it really been three months?"

"It really has been," he says.

"I don't know how I've been making my days longer and yet time still seems to be going by so slow."

He smirks down at her. "Life is less interesting when you don't have me pestering you."

"You know? I think you're right."

He beams, and then—"Tell me," he says. "Did you really slap Malfoy?"

"_Oh_," Hermione whines. "I can't _believe_ I did that!" There's no doubting that Malfoy was a horrible human being, but before that day, Hermione never could have fathomed wanting to physically harm someone.

"I'm so proud."

"How did you even find out?"

He curls an arm around her—a feeling she has desperately missed—and pulls her in to his side. "You didn't show up for lunch. Alicia asked Ron and Harry if they knew where you were and they told us all about your moment of glory."

Hermione feels her face heat. "I can't imagine what he's going to do to me. He's gotten Buckbeak on death row because he couldn't follow Hagrid's instructions—now I've gone and attacked him!"

"I don't think that will be an issue. He walked by the table and Harry looked at him and his face went even redder than yours is right now," he laughs as he tilts her face up with a knuckle under her chin. "There's no way Malfoy could have been hit by a _girl_, now could he?"

"But I still—"

"You still have to get to dinner. Some people have been missing you."

Hermione looks up at him and smiles. He smiles back at her, a presses his lips gently to the edge of her hair. Pulling her tight into his side for a hug, he makes her feel more comfortable than she has yet this entire term. She's thankful for him, more than anything else right now. That's why she stands up with him and follows him without an ounce of hesitation; she won't lose him again, not after she's experienced these past months without him. Not after she's been reminded that he is her safety, and her home, and a large part of her happiness.

*\

Over the next few weeks, things return to normal. She begins hopping back and forth between her friend groups at meals (usually with a book propped up behind her plate), Alicia, Katie, and Fred join her back in the library, and Harry and Ron started poking fun at her study tables again since they are no longer scared of her snapping at them. She still thinks at times that this isn't right—they shouldn't have been so quick to forgive her, to accept her back. Other times, she thinks that this proves they love her just as she loves them, because she knows she'd always welcome them back, no matter their mistakes.

She thinks on this whilst she stares out at the Hogwarts grounds as a storm rolls in. It's nearly the end of Easter holidays and she's gotten as far ahead in her course work as possible.

"I didn't think I'd see your nose out of a book for the rest of term," Fred's voice shatters through the silence from behind her.

Her eyes stay locked on the sky. "Around twenty minutes ago I stopped comprehending anything I read. I made the decision to take a break and come back to it later, because I was getting nothing done."

"And you're sitting out in the storm instead of resting, why?"

"It's pretty," she says. "The colors are beautiful, aren't they?"

Fred sits next to her and considers the fields, the sky, the colors all around. "Yeah, I suppose so. I'm more partial to summer days."

"I like the storms, everything about them. The colors they turn everything, the silence that comes before, and all the rest that they bring with them. Thunder scares some people but it used to put me to sleep. Now I like studying to the sound of it."

"I never knew that."

Hermione smiles. "Believe it or not, Fred, there _are_ some things you still don't know."

"I'll know them all one day," he says, and she believes him. He moves closer to her so their arms are pressing together. "Tell me more."

She peers up at him. In the lighting of the storm, he's not overstated like usual—his red hair isn't glaring at her, his freckles aren't jumping out, though his eyes are bright, as always. She wonders what he'd look like on a summer day. She's not sure what there is to say, but she starts talking anyways, and starts thinking that it's just as nice to watch him as the storm.

*\

They've won the Cup.

They've won the Cup and Hermione has to hold on to Ron's shoulder as they crowd on to the pitch just to remain standing. She clutches at his robes to make sure she stays with him. Everyone wants to thank Harry, and she doesn't think there's a chance that they'll reach him. After several minutes of getting shoved between bodies however, they break through the masses and are able to hug their friend to congratulate him. There's no words, really, but she doesn't think there needs to be as she watches Harry hoist the Cup above his head.

There is more screaming behind her, and with no warning she's grabbed around the waist and pulled in to a pile of bodies. She screams when the maroon robes first surround her and then begins to laugh as she hears everyone's voices cry out around her, "_we've won the Cup! 'Mione, we've won the __**bloody Cup!**_"

She hugs each of her friends from the team and cheers with them. Cheers for them. She's happy, and she's proud, and she feels like someone has cast a feather light charm on her and Alicia's hug is the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I'm so glad you're here," Alicia cries.

Hermione holds on to her friend and smiles. Thinks that maybe she's keeping Alicia grounded just as much, if not more, than she is Hermione. And honestly? "I wouldn't have missed it for the absolute world."

*\

With the Quidditch season over, everyone kicks in to study mode for their final exams. Hermione rarely finds herself outside the library. She also rarely finds herself alone in the library. Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and Lee (sometimes) are with her while she studies, though Fred and George are hard to find.

When she does find them in the common room one afternoon, they're playing a game of chess. She frowns at the scene. "You're… you're seriously not studying for your O.W.L.s?"

George frowns at her. "What use do we have for those?"

"Well—your products are all dependent on potions, charms… your knowledge on the subjects."

"We do better learning on our own," Fred smirks.

"Yes," Hermione agrees, because they did. They're brilliant and can learn what ever they like, how ever they like, _when_ ever they like. She doesn't think there's much around to limit them. "But all the same, the classes can't _hurt_…"

"They hurt our very beings, 'Mine," Fred tells her.

"Our souls," George nods.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "But imagine what you might be able to gain from advanced level classes! Sure, you can read about them, but you won't get any hands on experience. You can't tell me you've never needed help from a professor at least _once_."

George shrugs. "We usually ask Angelina or you."

"I'm not going to be in N.E.W.T. level classes, and what if Ange doesn't get the same O.W.L.s as you want to study? She doesn't care much for herbology or theory…"

"Look," Fred says, "no one expects us to do well, right? So we might as well not do well and save ourselves from trying. We'd rather spend our time working on our projects than studying anyway."

There's the expectation talk, once again. She thought she had understood his hesitance when he'd brought it up before, but now she can't. "_I_ expect you to do very well because I know you _can_," Hermione snaps. "But as I can see, I clearly don't matter—"

"Oh, c'mon, 'Mine," Fred huffs. "We don't belong in N.E.W.T. level classes. It'd be easier to just follow what's expected, hmm?"

"Then you're just feeding in to what they're assuming! I'm in my _third year_ and I'm already expected to do exceptionally well on mine. What if I don't?"

"That'd never happen," George rolls his eyes.

"You're going to have more O.W.L.s than Percy."

Hermione growls. "You two are imbeciles. Expectations and—and _school marks_ don't make us who we are. If I get no O.W.L.s I'd still be Hermione. Yes, alright, I'd be crushed and hate myself, but I would still be my normal self, correcting you two about something at least three times a day, and reading _Hogwarts: A History_ for leisure. If you get ten, you'll still be your normal trouble-making selves who turn in half-arsed assignments and terrorize the students and teachers of Hogwarts. You'd just have more experience in the field you're going in to, because I won't touch a bloody product of yours if you don't at least try to continue classes for the subjects you need," she tells them. "Honestly, you two are the _last_ people I'd expect to go along with any expectations people have of you! I'd always expect you'd want to break them and prove everyone wrong."

"So… if we do get O.W.L.s…" Fred begins.

"… you'll use product from us? _Joke_ product?" George finishes.

"That _is_ what you're saying, is it not?"

"Oh—bloody—that is what you've taken away from what I've said? Oh—_yes_, alright? If you take N.E.W.T. levels for potions, herbology, charms, and theory at the least, I'll use your stupid product." Hermione huffs.

Fred smiles. "George, her language is getting bad. You reckon she's angry with us?"

Hermione rolls her eyes and cuts in before George can respond. "You should hear what I say in my head. Study. I'll be in the library after class if you want to join."

*\

"Do not tell me it's bloody true," Fred says as he sits beside Hermione at breakfast. "Do not tell me that you almost got a Dementor's Kiss because you went after Black with Harry."

Hermione frowns. "How did you…?"

"I heard Ron talking about it with Harry. Are you _mad_, Hermione? Why—I can't believe you! 'No, Fred, I won't do anything stupid! No, Fred, you don't have to worry!' That's the last time I'll trust those bloody words coming out of your mouth."

"You don't even know the full story!" she argues.

"Did you or did you not go after Black?"

"Not technic—"

"_Did you_ or _did you not_—"

"Fred!" Hermione shouts. She looks around and sees a group of first years staring at them with wide eyes. "I can't talk to you about this right now. Not here."

He huffs. They hold eye contact for a long moment before he turns in his chair with his shoulders still tense. "I want a full explanation by the end of the day."

Hermione reaches over and places her hand on his forearm. His shoulders begin to relax. "I'm safe. I didn't do anything that wasn't needed."

"'Mine, I need to know you'll be safe. I _can't_ deal with that again."

"I promise I'll do my best to be safe. Please know that's all I can promise, Fred. Harry's one of my best friends and if he's in danger I'm not going to leave him without help."

"I know. And I don't want to stop you from helping him. Just don't rush in without a thought, and don't risk it all for a battle that isn't yours."

Hermione smiles and squeezes his arm. "This battle is mine. This battle is my friend's, so this battle is mine."

Fred doesn't say anything. He doesn't nod, he doesn't look at her. She thinks it's his stubborn acceptance—he won't argue her point, but he won't like or support it either. For now, this is enough.

*\

The ride home is chaotic. Alicia insists that the entire group sit together, but there was hardly enough room in a cabin. Ginny frowns at the overflowing cabin and says that she'll sit with her other friends. Even without her, Hermione is still left sitting in Alicia's lap, and Lee is stretched out across the floor of the cabin. Ron is grumbling about how Hermione had told her other friends about Black, but she knows that she can trust everyone in this cabin with her life—even Lee, which is something she is still surprised about. Lee, while not being extremely close with Hermione, still had hugged her tight after he had heard about her run in with the dementors.

It's comforting to be around her friends like this. Even as Fred and George whine about how Ron has been gifted an owl by a fugitive, even while Lee pesters Angelina about how much she thinks she'll be writing to him this summer, even during their good byes, she thinks that she's never going to be able to put this feeling in to words.

* * *

_The plan is still to finish posting this fic by the end of June. I'm still technically on schedule for that, I just have probably about 10k left to write in the final chapters, and a few scenes left to fill in the other books. Being that I have almost a full month before summer semester starts, I don't think I'll have much issue. _

_Thank you all again! _


	4. i see you from a different point of view

_The changes continue to get bigger as we go. Some will be plot altering, some will stay small, some will seem big when you read them but impact very little in the future. Changes are based on fan-theories that I like, my own head-cannons, things that JKR has said, and also how the character development and relationships can impact the original story line. _

_Also, I urge you to go check out this fic on AO3 this week- there's a piece of art over there that is absolutely stunning but I don't know how to fit it in here. _

* * *

_**book iv.**_

_Fred and George, _

_ I always seem to forget how dreary muggle life is. Please don't get me wrong, it's not horrid; we have electricity (therefore television and film), we have plenty of academic content that I'm able to catch up on (remind me next time I want to study muggle academia to stay away from geometry), and of course I'm with my parents. I miss magic. I miss learning new things, being amazed by the world around me. I miss my friends. I don't even have France to distract me this summer. _

_ Mum and dad have written up an explanation on root canals for you, along with pictures, diagrams, stories about necrosis and more. I think they're hoping you'll be inspired. They aren't entirely happy about the fact that no wizarding form of dentistry exists. They also aren't comfortable with magical healing. They believe there has to be some limitations. Yes, I've told them that Harry has literally regrown bones and had concussions healed in minutes, but they refuse to believe that it is limitless. I might, too. There must be limits; I just haven't encountered them yet. I'm sure that Pomfrey would be able to tell me. Remind me to ask her once we're back at Hogwarts. _

_ Alicia, Ange, Katie, and I are planning a day in Diagon Alley soon. If you'd be interested in joining, contact Ange and she will send Clement with the day and time. Taupe is almost as slow as Errol from what I'm told. She's the cheapest owl for the summer as all of the faster and affordable owls had already been rented by the time I'd gotten there. She's still absolutely beautiful though, isn't she? _

_ I do hope your summer is going well? Have you made any progress with your potions or spells? The last potion I remember you showing me was to induce vomiting? How has that progressed? _

_ Love from _

_ Hermione _

*\

_ 'Mine, _

_ Why does anyone _

_ How does_

_ Is there a reason people choose _

_ I don't understand why anyone would choose to be a dentistry. Your parents are infinitely more terrifying than a death eater. Hell, they could probably defeat several death eaters with their… tools… _

_ George regrets asking as well. He keeps walking around and holding the sides of his face. He looked at the 'necrotic tissue' and put his fingers in his mouth and felt all of his teeth. Sometimes he used to forget to brush his teeth at night. For the past two days he hasn't forgotten once. I think our toothpaste must be different (muggles do use toothpaste, don't they?), or maybe Mungo's really does have healers that fix teeth? We're not in a rush to meet those healers. _

_ Mum hasn't stocked up on floo powder in a few weeks, which means we won't be able to make it to Diagon Alley. It sounds like Lee will be meeting you lovely ladies there according to Ange's letter, so you can't talk too terribly about us lads. _

_ We finished the potion along with others and the antidote to each one. Our vomiting potion was pretty nasty before we figured out the antidote. George almost ended up having to go to Mungo's because he was vomiting every ten minutes. When we tested the antidote, it moved to every five minutes. Thankfully, he didn't take much, so it wore off after about an hour. We added some Boom Berry and heated it twice as long as before and it worked like magic! (I'll assume you've laughed, here.) We've also created a tongue-swelling potion (and its antidote) and a potion that creates a fever (and its antidote). We'll tell you more when we see you next. Yes, we do have plans to use these to skive off class this year. _

_ Now, we can get to the burning question. What is geometry? Sounds like a form of dark magic. Don't become a dark witch, 'Mine. The wizarding world would be doomed if it were ever up against you. _

_ We miss you dearly, 'Mine. Stay safe. _

_ Yours, _

_ Fred _

_ (and George) _

*\

_ Fred and George, _

_ Geometry might as well be dark magic. It's the study of figures—like circles, spheres, and everything else. It is absolutely frustrating. I wonder if it would have been easier had I continued at muggle school learning maths the same as they did, but I did not. Now I'm betrayed by my own drive to learn as much as possible. _

_ My parents are __dentists__. Dentistry is the practice. They said they like making people smile, if that means anything about why they chose their profession. Sounds similar to why you two want to open a joke shop, doesn't it? George, this is your own fault. My parents made those documents for you because you asked. I'm glad to hear it has helped with your hygiene at least. _

_ I got more books at Diagon Alley! I doubt either of you are surprised, but I found a few that I think you'd enjoy. One is on obscure potion ingredients. I will let you borrow it but I do __not__ want you using these ingredients until you've graduated Hogwarts. But perhaps you'll be able to ask instructors about them now, or start researching them so you know how to prevent mishaps with them in the future. Do not think I won't write your mother if you use these ingredients before you are ready for them. _

_ You WILL NOT use your potions to get out of class! See above paragraph as to why. You two are brilliant but you're still only sixteen! If you do not attend your NEWT classes, our deal is off and I will never use your product. (Speaking of? How'd you do on your OWLs? Results should be coming back around now, shouldn't they?) I am proud of you both for making those potions so successfully! I'd love to hear the make-up of them all if you don't mind. _

_ I miss you as well. _

_ Love from _

_ Hermione _

*\

_ 'Mione,_

_We listened to you and we only half regret it. Mum is over the moon. Tests are our strong point, at least. If O.W.L.s were essays we had to do out of class, we'd lose them by the end of the day (and we also probably wouldn't do them, even if we didn't). We regret it though because now there are those pesky expectations. Do you know what trouble you've caused for us, Granger? McGonagall sent us the N.E.W.T. course book and highlighted the ones she wants us to take! There were six. SIX, Hermione! Potions, DADA, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Magical Theory. She also "recommends" Care of Magical Creatures even though we only got an Acceptable. Apparently there's also Alchemy and Spell Theory classes she wants us to take. This is why we didn't go in for career advising last year. She's mad with power, that woman. She can't honestly believe we'd go for this? That's too many classes and too much work. _

_ Unfortunately once Mum heard, we had to go for it. _

_ We're not taking Care of Magical Creatures or Alchemy, but we did add spell theory. Fred wants to show off what he knows. We TRIED to get out of Potions with Snape, but that was our highest mark apart from Charms and Minnie wouldn't hear of it when we told her. We just got an owl back that said 'I will personally sign you up for Potions if I find you have not at the start of next term. I expect to hear Severus complain about the two of you at every dinner.' We haven't figured out if that's a threat to make sure we make it to classes or encouragement to keep tormenting Snape. We're choosing to believe the second one as that makes us feel better about ourselves and makes taking potions seem worthwhile. _

_ Right, we won't use our potions to get out of class (too often), but we will switch out our vials for Snape so he ends up with a vomiting attack (completely safe for him unfortunately, don't worry, it only lasts for an hour or so like we said). _

_ Low blow, saying you'll contact Mum. Wouldn't it be safer for us to experiment with rare potion ingredients at Hogwarts where there are professors who can help us if we muck it up? _

_ Cheers, _

_ George_

*\

_Please don't mind how wild Pig is, but we had to get an owl to you quick. _

_WE'RE GOING TO THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP AND MUM DEMANDS YOU GO IN HER PLACE. WE'RE LEAVING EARLY MONDAY MORNING, YOU HAVE FIVE DAYS TO GET HERE, SHE SAYS YOU'RE WELCOME AT ANY TIME. GEORGE AND I HAVE LOADS OF THINGS TO SHOW YOU SO WE EXPECT YOU BY AT LEAST SUNDAY MORNING. DO NOT DISAPPOINT, WE GOT O.W.L.S FOR YOU, YOU CAN ARRIVE A DAY EARLY. _

_ As you'll be here within a matter of days, go ahead and send Taupe back to the office, save us all a few knuts in the process. Give her a nice treat before she heads back, she deserves it. _

_ Send Pig back quick with your estimated arrival. _

_ START PACKING. _

_ Hurry up, _

_ Fred_

*\

_ Fred, _

_ I'll be there Saturday afternoon, expect me by floo around 1 pm. _

_ My parents have agreed to let me stay at the Burrow for the remainder of the summer as well. Be seeing you! _

_ Yours, _

_ Hermione _

*\

At 12:58 on Saturday, Hermione clings tightly to her parents. "I love you," she says.

"We love you, too," her mum answers. She smooths down her daughter's hair and kisses her forehead. "Write us when you get back from the Kwenditch Cup—"

"_Quidditch_, Mum," Hermione corrects.

Her dad laughs. "We've no idea about the things in your world unless you tell us about it, Hermione. I don't recall you ever mentioning Quidditch."

"Oh, either way!" her mum says. "Write us when you're back at their home, and once you get to Hogwarts, okay?"

"Of course." She looks at the clock. It's exactly 1 pm. "Well, I'll be going now. I love you."

"Love you, too, 'Mione," her dad says. Her mum echoes it.

She takes a handful of floo powder that McGonagall had generously gifted her and steps into her fireplace, dragging her trunk with her. Crookshanks jumps on to her shoulder from where he stood outside the fireplace, and she gives her parents one last smile before throwing the powder down and yelling "_the Burrow!_"

She stumbles out into the Weasley's kitchen moments later. Crookshanks meows and leaps from her shoulder, walking out of the abode through the open backdoor. She places her trunk on the floor and looks around. From outside she hears, "is that Crookshanks? _Hermione!_"

Before she has the chance to call out, a head full of red hair flies through the door and at Hermione. As she wraps her arms around the figure, she recognizes it as Ginny. Hermione laughs and hugs her friend tight.

As they stand at the opening of the fireplace hugging, more red heads file in to the room. Hermione locates the twins first, and then Ron, and then studies the two new men she doesn't know quite yet. They look vaguely familiar. Hermione is sure she's seen pictures of them, but she can't name which one is Charlie and which one is Bill. At least, not until she sees the earring hanging from an ear and recalls George toasting after Christmas holidays to Bill's new earring which 'made Mum go bollocks.'

"I'm so glad you've made it," Ginny says into Hermione's shoulder, and then steps back. "It's good to have a friend here now instead of just my annoying brothers."

"_We're_ annoying?" Charlie says. "'Charlie, come play Quidditch! Charlie, tell me more about the dragons! Charlie, want to prank the twins?'"

"_Oi!_" Fred and George exclaim. "It took us three hours to catch those vials!"

Charlie looks at them. "It was Ginny."

The four of them begin bickering, and Hermione takes her opportunity to greet Ron. She gives him a hug while he gives her a pat on the back. "It's good to see you, Ron. How's your leg doing?"

"Completely healed up," he says. "They needed to wait to make sure it wasn't poisoned or cursed before they closed the wounds up for good, but now there's no trace left."

"Just like magic," Hermione grins.

"I hear you over there using _my_ joke, Granger!"

"It's my joke now, Weasley!" she calls back without turning around.

She feels smug, but that only lasts a moment before her feet are yanked from the ground. A scream tears out of her throat. From right beside her ear, she hears Fred laughing and feels his breath warm on her jaw. "No, it's mine, 'Mine."

"Put me _down!_" Hermione cries, struggling in his arms to break his hold. Her chest feels odd as he lifts her higher. It's no wonder she doesn't like riding a broom if she can't even manage to be two feet of the ground without her heart throwing a fit.

"You're mine now," he says, mimicking her.

"I've been 'Mine since first year, you prat!"

Her feet touch the ground, but the arm around her waist doesn't disappear. "Hmm," Fred hums, "suppose that's true." He releases her short after that and immediately twists her around to gather her in a hug. She sinks in to it easily and feels—well. Comfortable. Safe. Everything that she'd come to associate with Fred in the last few months.

What makes it better is that those feelings don't fade when Fred releases her; they just aren't trying to claw their way out of her veins anymore.

It's another few minutes while she says hi to George and properly meets Charlie and Bill, but then Ginny is calling her name.

"C'mon," Ginny beckons. "I'll show you where we're sleeping."

"I've got your trunk," Fred says, grabbing said trunk and following behind, George only a few steps back. Ron looks at Hermione and gets up to join them.

Ginny brings her to a small room with one twin bed and an air mattress. Fred places her trunk next to the bed while Ron and George wait by the door. Hermione looks at them and George grins. "Are you ready to see our wonderful inventions, 'Mione?"

Hermione perks up. "Do you have any of the potions ready?"

"Even better," Fred says.

"We've got a finished product," George says.

Hermione gasps, unable to contain her excitement, and she sees Ron look between her and the twins confusedly out of the corner of her eye. She ignores that, and the five of them climb yet another flight of stairs to the room that Ron and the twins are sharing. Fred and George rush ahead and by the time Hermione, Ron, and Ginny arrive, the twins are holding handfuls of what look to be sweets.

"These are what we've been telling you about," Fred grins. He holds up a red and orange sweet. Hermione can see Ginny rolling her eyes with a large smile on her face. "Fancy one?"

Hermione snorts. "No?"

"Fair enough," George says, just as Fred bites off one end of it. Within moments, he starts sweating and taking on a sickly appearance. Fred reaches for her hand and places the back of it to his forehead. She gasps at the heat coming from his skin. He smiles at her, holds her hand there, and then pops the remainder of the sweet in his mouth. The heat fades as quickly as his sweating had come on until he's back to a reasonable temperature.

"Incredible!" she says. He brings her hand down and releases her wrist. Her skin feels like it's crawling. She'll have to bring this up to Fred and George later to see if it could be some sort of side effect from touching the effected individual.

The twins beam at her. George turns to his sister. "Did y'hear that, Gin, Ron? 'Mione thinks we're incredible."

"Bet she'd never betray us with Charlie," Fred adds.

"Bet she's never been an unknown test subject for your pranks, either," Ginny quips back.

"Not yet," Fred says. Hermione narrows her eyes. "And she also never will be."

"Ever," George says when she turns her glare on to him.

Ginny huffs. "I'm just as scary as Hermione!"

"Are you?" Fred asks.

George motions to Hermione. "You have heard about all of Hermione's adventures around the castle to save your little crush, haven't you?"

Ginny's cheeks flare red. "I have, yes, and I can still bat boogey you better than she can!"

"Not today, little sister," George teases. "Not outside of Hogwarts you can't!"

"The Ministry would never know it was me. Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, _and_ Percy are here, they wouldn't have a clue."

Fred looks at George, who is not smiling anymore. "Right," Fred says. "You're scary. If you'd like to bat boogey someone, I hear Ron is quite skilled at projectile vomiting them. Would be quite a show."

"_Hey!_" Ron cries. "Maybe that goes to show _my_ skill with a bat boogey hex!"

The room falls in to laughter, and delves deeper and deeper as Ron and Ginny discuss the terms of a bat-boogey-hex-off once they get back to school. Hermione doesn't have a clue as to whether they're serious or not, so she makes a mental note to stay away from the both of them for the first week.

*\

"We're eating out in the garden. There's just not room for eleven people in here," Molly says. "Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she points at Ron and Harry, and then turns to the potatoes. Ginny and Hermione are gathering up the plates and dishes when the potatoes fly from their skins. "Oh, for heaven's sake, those two!" She grumbles, and both Ginny and Hermione hurry from the room. Behind them, they can hear Molly ranting, "I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't! No ambition," she says, and then they're too far away to hear how she ends her sentence.

"She just gets upset sometimes," Ginny mumbles, sensing Hermione's annoyance. "She wants a better life for us than… this. She thinks the Ministry is the best route, reckons Fred and George could be successful almost anywhere, they just don't want to be."

"Life can't get much better than _this_," Hermione argues. "I mean… I do understand you're short on money, really, but you've got each other. The Burrow. All of that is magic in itself, isn't it?"

"It is until you get your tenth set of hand-me-down trousers that are clearly modified from men's size to yours," Ginny says. She pauses, a contemplative look on her face. "It is great, and I am thankful. We all are. Merlin knows we have a better life than someone like Malfoy who has heaps of money. And I don't disagree with what the twins want to do. Mum can over react, she has her beliefs and thoughts and she stands by them until she has reason not to…"

"I just don't like that it's her belief that there's something _wrong_ with them—I've heard her ask them, 'where did I go wrong with you two?' I don't particularly like what they do, but they're _good_ at it and it makes people happy. They're cruel to Percy and I wish they'd stop, yes, but so are you and all of your other brothers—it's not just them—and Fred still looks up to Percy and admires him…" She shakes her head. "They're not the perfect role models, or best students, but they're some of the most ambitious and dedicated people any of us know. Just because she would have used that ambition on something different doesn't mean they're wrong. Fred and George always try to brush her comments off but it takes a toll on them when they're constantly told that they're going to fail or hear that there's something wrong with them. They said they didn't care about their O.W.L.s because no one expected them to do well. If they cared to, that could have gotten straight O's. I practically _begged_ them to work for the O's they did get, because they wanted to just blow off the tests because no one cares! How does no one expect boys that smart to do well? Why does your mum think she did something wrong with the two most ambitious people in your household?"

They've reached the tables by now, and stand off to the side watching them magic the tables around in the air. Ginny stares at her. Hermione draws in a deep breath and stares at Fred, and then George. "You think—you feel very strongly about this."

"Yes," Hermione confirms. "When they're talking, they say 'expectations' the same way I say 'know-it-all.' It's been used against them. It's been used to belittle them. People have made up their mind about them, and it hurts them, but they don't do anything about it because they've been burned before."

Ginny is silent for a short time again. "Thank you. For believing in them. I didn't realize how hard it was on them because they never both to take a moment to be serious."

"I think I only know because Fred is my best friend. I don't think they ever wanted you to know." She looks back at the house. "And I don't mean to judge your mother. I just wish—"

"Yeah," Ginny agrees, as they watch George rush over to Charlie and whisper in his ear. Charlie shouts out a new spell and the table stands straight up on two legs and uses the other two as arms. It begins dancing like a human, and Bill calls over to Fred to back him up and give him a better spell. Hermione doesn't even notice her arms starting to hurt from the weight of the plates, all too happy to watch the two oldest Weasleys make the magic that Fred and George created.

*\

"Dad? What's going on?" Charlie calls. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others—"

"I've got them here," Mr. Weasley says. Hermione can see Charlie exhale in relief as they draw nearer. Charlie ducks back in the tent, and the four of them follow after.

Hermione's eyes automatically find the twins and Ginny and she feels her world right itself. All of them look quite shaken up, and Fred is clenching Ginny's hand in his, as if he's scared to let her go. Ginny's knuckles are white, so Hermione assumes that she's having a similar feeling as Fred. George looks spooked, but relieved that it seems to be over. When Fred's eyes land on Hermione, his clutch on Ginny loosens and his shoulders slump.

He starts to move towards her. Just as he stands, however, Mr. Weasley answers a question that Hermione hadn't happened to hear. "No, we found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the mark."

"_What?_" the three oldest Weasley siblings yelped while Fred narrows his eyes and asks, "_Harry's wand?_"

"_Mr. Crouch's_ elf?" Percy says.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley says. Together, he, Harry, Ron, and Hermione recount what happened in the forest. While they're talking, Fred's eyes don't leave Hermione's face for more than a moment.

They talk for another several minutes before Mr. Weasley cuts conversation off. There's a pause before he looks at Hermione and Ginny. "Forget your tent, we're all staying in here tonight. Bill, you and I can sleep on the floor."

Hermione shakes her head, "Mr. Weasley, no, I can—"

"No, no, Hermione! No point in arguing, what I say goes. Besides, do you think I'd fancy losing my head if Molly found out I let you sleep on the ground?"

That's a valid point Hermione realizes, and instead of trying to argue further, she thanks him.

Once everyone is finished preparing for bed Hermione is led to the bedroom. Bill points her towards the bottom bunk of one. Fred is settling in the top bunk. When she reaches the bed, he leans over and looks at her. His face is mere centimeters from hers. His chin bumps in to her forehead as he grips the back of her head and drags her towards his mattress for one of the most awkward hugs Hermione has ever experienced, yet also most comforting.

"I'm glad you're safe," Fred says.

"Me too," Hermione says. She pulls away from his hold so she can see his face. "I mean—glad _you're_ safe. You and George and Ginny. And, well. Your entire family. I'm glad."

"Yeah, me too." There's a long pause while they stare at each other. "Sleep well, yeah?"

Hermione nods and tells him the same. He presses a light kiss to her hairline that causes her stomach to flip. She lies down in her bed. The mattress above her shifts underneath his weight and she thinks about what would happen if she were to magic it away. Fred would fall to Hermione, and she'd find herself safe once more, despite the terrors they'd just faced. She longs for the hold of safety, but knows that it has to wait. She turns on her side to face away from the candlelight and closes her eyes.

*\

"What in Merlin's name were they talking about?" Fred demands, staring at the Hogwarts Express platform where his mum and two oldest brothers stood only moments ago. The train pulls them further and further away until he's staring out a window at the scenic mountains.

"Are you expecting us to have the answer?" Hermione asks, quirking a brow at him. Her turns a playful glare on her and she smirks. "Guess my patience does come in hand sometimes. _I'm_ more than happy to wait and find out when we get to Hogwarts."

"Last year you cried because someone checked out a charms book you wanted to read and you had to wait for it," George says.

Hermione turns to glare at him. "Last year was a very difficult year and I ask everyone here to forget everything I did."

"I am never forgetting you punching Malfoy," Harry says.

Ron grins. "Me either. Not even an obliviate could erase that."

"Before Hermione argues that statement," Fred cuts in before Hermione can even open her mouth, "'Mine, are you sitting with us or them?"

"I'll sit with Harry and Ron. Tell everyone I'll see them at the feast?"

George shrugs. "It's your head when the girls come to find you."

"Try and hold them off, will you?" Hermione pleads. "We'll have all feast to talk."

George shrugs. "We'll try but I'm not risking my bollocks if they try and resist."

"We'll do our best," Fred says. He puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. "Find us at the feast. You may have gotten out of it last year, but there's no way you're avoiding the sorting this year."

"Tell Ange I'd like my trophy to be shining by the time I get it back, would you?" With a smile on her face and a flutter in her chest, she turns and walks down the compartment, motioning for Harry and Ron to follow and leaving Fred and George's protests down the train.

*\

"Ha!" George exclaims. "I told you we'd keep you from cheating this year!"

Fred reaches for the trophy, grinning evilly at Hermione. "It must feel horrible, 'Mine, to be beaten so horribly—"

"George beat her by a point and a half," Katie says, reading the parchment over Angelina's shoulder.

Fred holds up a hand at Katie, silencing her. "—_so horribly_, by us."

"By _me_," George scoffs, and snatches the trophy before Fred can.

Fred blinks. He looks at where the trophy was, and then to his twin. "_Gred_."

"You lost to Hermione by _four points! _You don't deserve this!"

Fred looks at Hermione. He looks at Ron, at Alicia, at Lee, at Ginny. He looks back at George. "You've betrayed me."

"You betrayed yourself."

"I don't know," Hermione says, "George obviously must have cheated, right Fred?"

"Obviously," he agrees quickly. "Ange, I'd like to file a formal complaint."

Angelina groans. "'Mione, why would you do this to me?"

"That's my trophy!" Hermione yells.

"Oh, shut it," Ginny says with a laugh. "I'm going to destroy that if you guys keep arguing over it."

George gasps and hugs the trophy tight. "You wouldn't _dare_."

"You all turn in to _children_ around it!"

"Do not!" Fred says. Ginny merely raises her eyebrows at him and turns back to loading her plate.

Conversation flows easily despite the fact that too many people are trying to talk at once. Hermione tries to keep up with as many conversations as she can.

She's currently listening to Lee tell the story about his dog ending up with a line of gnomes up her entire tail when Hermione hears it.

"Terrified the house-elves out of their wits," Nearly Headless Nick says to Ron and Harry.

Hermione's head whips around. "There are house-elves _here?_ Here at _Hogwarts?_"

"Certainly. The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

Hermione's jaw drops. "I've never seen one!"

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they? They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning—see to the fires and so on. I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you?" he asks rhetorically. "That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

She stares, completely unable to process this. She can hear Fred talking to her friends about Winky and saying something about Percy. Likely telling them how she found out how appalling house-elf ownership truly is. She focuses back on the ghost. "But they get paid? They get _holidays_, don't they? And—and sick leave, and pensions and everything?"

Nearly Headless Nick laughs. "Sick leave and pensions? House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione wants to ask how he knows that, but her mind is elsewhere—in the kitchens, particularly. She looks down at her plate. She sets her utensils down and shoves the plate away from her.

"Oh, c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," Ron says. Food flies from his mouth and he apologizes to Harry before continuing at Hermione, "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," she huffs. "That's what made this dinner. _Slave labor._"

"'Mine, our house-elves here aren't _slaves_, just eat your food," Fred sighs. He pushes her plate closer to her.

Immediately she shoves it back away. "Do _not_ tell me to support this archaic system, Fred Weasley! This is—they're an entire species that need to be liberated from these awful customs and—"

"'Mine, how many house-elves have you met?" Fred asks with a frown.

She frowns back. "Winky and Dobby, the one that Harry told you about, but—"

"Two house-elves that come from the worst of situations a house-elf can come from," George cuts her off. "And even Dobby still wants to work. Meanwhile, Fred and I know each and every house-elf in the Hogwarts kitchen."

"They've been brainwashed!" Hermione argues. "They can't fight for themselves, they can't—"

Fred barks out a laugh. "House-elves have powers that even we don't have. They're plenty powerful to fight for themselves."

"Don't _laugh_ at me," she snaps. "Their entire race has been enslaved and alright, Fred, they have powerful magic. But they don't know how to use it for themselves, do they? No!"

"Calm down, Herm," George says, with his hands held out in front of him. "Have you thought that maybe you're approaching this from the wrong angle?"

"And what other angle _is there_, George?"

"Well I'm not George," Fred begins, "but you're going for too much, too fast. No one, not even the house-elves, will go for it. They _like_ working, and they're _happy_ to do it. But there are house-elves out there like Winky who are mistreated beyond what words can describe, despite guidelines being in place."

George nods along. "Don't start off by trying to _liberate_ them," he tells her. "Instead, get more regulations set in place, and make the consequences more than a fine that any old-money family can pay—like make abuse of a house-elf an offense against the Ministry, where a trial can be held and the house-elf can be relocated, away from guilty houses."

"And advocate for pay," Fred adds. "Sure, they like working more than anything else, but even on their days off they don't have the option to do much if they haven't got any money. Start low, so it doesn't sound overwhelming to the owners, and doesn't make the house-elves feel guilty."

"Don't tell the house-elves you want to give them more freedom or more rights, they won't like that," George continues. "Ask them where they'd like to go, or what they'd like to do. Then ask them if they'd like the chance to go. They won't think you're making them betray their owners or that you're trying to force them away from their work."

"And get to know some of them. They'll give you more ideas than we can. They love talking about what they do. Of course, the Hogwarts house-elves are treated fantastically, so you won't find any of them complaining—no, not even about their lack of pay. You just might find some of them hoping to see the ocean one day."

"They don't see themselves as slaves. They see themselves as _house-elves_, and they're proud of what they do. If you imply that what they're doing isn't right, they're either going to be hurt or angry."

"And it likely is due to how we've evolved them as wizards. But the point is, you're not going to do yourself any favors if you don't have them on your side, and you only know one house-elf who is free and _likes_ being free, and the only freedom he's used is choosing who to work for and asking for pay," Fred reminds her. "The other house-elf you know is miserable without work. So liberation isn't the place to start, because you'll only be ridiculed, 'Mine. It's not going to happen overnight, but I know you well enough to know that if you want it to happen, you will make it happen. For your sake, and the house-elves, start small."

The table falls silent on his final word, and Hermione is left staring at them, wide-eyed. She has arguments, she _always_ has arguments, but theirs are far better than hers. They have an upper hand, clearly, knowing the Hogwarts house-elves and being able to speak with the species regularly while she only knows two of them (and she hardly knows those two), but that's not the point. The point is that all of her arguments fall away the more she thinks about it.

The longer her silence stretches, the more the noise from her other friends picks back up. After everyone around her and the twins are back in their own conversations, Fred tries moving Hermione's plate towards her. He leans forward so he can see her face around the curtain of her hair. "There's a house-elf down there that is happy and proud of making your dinner. Eat, and I'll take you to meet them this weekend, yeah? You can tell them how good it was. That's a sure-fire way to make them like you."

Hermione eyes the food. "This weekend? Saturday? You promise?"

Fred nods. He puts a hand on her forearm and strokes his thumb across her skin soothingly making her skin burn. "Promise, 'Mine. But I won't have you starving yourself until then."

"Okay."

"Thank you."

She looks at Fred. Echoes his words. "Thank you."

*\

They go to the kitchens Saturday afternoon immediately after lunch.

Hermione watches, fascinated as Fred seems to—well, tickle?—the pear and coaxes it to let out a high pitched giggle. The portrait swings open after that, and that's when she hears them.

They have higher pitched voices and the sheer amount of the voices coming from beyond the doorway is overwhelming. It only gets worse when Fred steps through, George immediately behind him, and there are many—_so many_—squeaks of excitement. She steps in the room. None of the house-elves seem to notice her.

"Misters Weasley!"

That seems to be the overwhelming greeting they receive, and Fred and George grin at them all.

"'ello," George greets. "Great job with the welcome feast, mates. We've got a friend here who thinks so, too."

There are at least a hundred cheers again, several thanks (especially from the elves closest to the twins), and a select few that seem to finally notice her.

Fred reaches back and grabs Hermione's hand, pulling her forward and all but presents her to the hoard of house-elves. "Pippit, this is our friend Hermione."

The house-elf in front of her bounces on to his tippy-toes. "Pippit is most honored, Miss Hermione. Miss Hermione is liking her food?"

Hermione smiles. She crouches down so she is eye-level with the elf. Pippit's eyes widen. "Very much, Pippit. You are all very talented."

"Ooh, thanks Miss Hermione, Miss Hermione thank you," Pippit says. He waves a hand upwards, urging her to stand up. When she does, Pippit drags her to a stove. "Miss Hermione likes waffles with chocolate chips?"

"Yes, actually." She's surprised that he remembers, all the way back from her first year. "How did you remember?"

"Misters Weasley ask Pippit and Nora to make waffles with chocolate chips for Miss Hermione."

Hermione laughs. When she turns to look at the twins, both of them are engaged in conversation with other house-elves, but Fred is smirking. He lifts his head and winks at Hermione. With a shake of her head, she returns her attention to Pippit.

"You and Nora make wonderful waffles. Thank you, Pippit."

Again, the elf bounces excitedly on his toes. "Ooh, thanks Miss Hermione."

"Of course," she smiles. "Pippit, may I ask how you came to Hogwarts?"

"Ooh, Mister Dumbledore," he says. "Mister Dumbledore brought Pippit to Hogwarts many years ago, Miss Hermione."

"Are you happy at Hogwarts?"

More toe bouncing. "Yes, Miss Hermione, yes. Mister Dumbledore is kind, Miss McGonagall is kind, Misters Weasley are kind, everyone is kind."

"Did you work for anyone before Professor Dumbledore hired you?"

"No, Miss Hermione, no. Pippit has always wanted to work, but masters all said that Pippit was too small. Mister Dumbledore didn't mind Pippit being small."

"That's great, Pippit," she says. It almost feels genuine. There's too much here to open in one day, but Pippit is excited and happy, as opposed to Winky's anxiety and fearfulness. In fact, each house-elf in the room seems to be cheerful as they dance and play with one another during their down time. There's much that she wants to do for these creatures, but she thinks Fred and George have a point: this isn't going to happen overnight, and she doesn't think Pippit, or any of the other house-elves, would be happy with her proposing such a foreign idea to them.

Nearly an hour later they leave, and Hermione feels light. There are still others out there who aren't fortunate enough to be at Hogwarts, to be working under a kind man like Dumbledore. Those will be her first targets—regulations on house-elf ownership and strict enforcement of those regulations, just as George had suggested. She knows she's going to make a difference in their lives—she's sure of it.

*\

Nearly two months pass with little to no excitement. Hermione's birthday passes with a letter and gift from her parents and a celebration and gifts from all of her friends. She founds S.P.E.W. and writes to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures about her ideas. She doesn't hear back from them (at least not more than a generic 'we appreciate your letter'). Angelina celebrates her seventeenth birthday and Hermione gives her a car keychain, joking that she can drive it now, much to the confusion of her friends. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrive and the Goblet of Fire is set out.

And of course, her barmy friends try to enter.

She should clarify.

Her barmy, _sixteen-year-old_ friends try to enter a contest for seventeen-year-olds.

She can't help but roll her eyes as Fred, George, and Lee thunder in, cheering all the while. They explain their brilliant plan to the others, and Hermione scoffs.

"It's not going work," Hermione sing-songs.

The twins look at each other, and then her. They have grins on their faces as they crouch on either side of her.

"Oh yeah?" Fred asks.

"And why's that, Professor o'Mione?" George says.

She rolls her eyes. "Dumbledore added an age line. _Himself_."

"So?" Fred says.

"_So_," she stresses, "a genius like Dumbledore couldn't _possibly_ be fooled by a dodge as pathetically dimwitted as an aging potion!"

The breath gets sucked from her chest in surprise as Fred wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close. "Ah! But that's why it's so _brilliant_," he smirks.

George puts his arm around her shoulders and says, "_because_ it's so pathetically dimwitted."

It's not even a full minute before two of her best friends are thrown from the line as the rest of the hall laughs.

"I did warn you," Professor Dumbledore's voice rings through the hall, delighted. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, or Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

They both leave without a protest, but not before Hermione can tell them that this clearly is proof that they should listen to her from here on out.

*\

"Hey, 'Mione," Katie grins holding up a newsletter, "when were you planning on telling us about your secret love with our own Gryffindor champion?"

"We're waiting for the wedding, figured we'd shock everyone," she answered, deadpan.

"Good strategy," Ron said from beside Katie. "Harry's in a habit of lying and not telling his friends things anyways, eh?"

"Oh, yes Ron. This entirely fictional thing compares quite nicely to your entirely fictional scenario," she snaps. She stands up from the table and gathers her bag.

The group watches, confused. "Where are you going?" Fred asks.

"To sit with Harry, since clearly his best friends is too dull to _be his best friend_," Hermione says.

"What?" Alicia groans. "No, Hermione, we already get you less than Harry; you spend every class with him and half of your free time with him!"

"We'll kick Ron out and bring Harry over," Ginny suggests.

"Yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Ron mutters.

Ginny turns sharp eyes on her brother. "If you're going to continue acting like this, yes. I would."

"I'll see you guys later tonight," Hermione sighs. She tosses one last glare at Ron and then marches off to where Harry is sitting near Neville, Seamus, and Dean. She sits across from him. "So I've heard you're my one true love, or something like that."

Harry smiles.

*\

Hermione is late to dinner.

She's rarely (never) late to dinner, so as soon as she walks in, there are six pairs of eyes on her. She runs her tongue over her teeth subconsciously as she walks down the aisle to her friends. There's laughter from the Slytherin table as she passes. She keeps walking, giving no indication she cares, or even that she heard them.

When she sits down, she apologizes to her friends and explains that it was a small potions mishap. The conversation picks back up and carries on as normal until Hermione laughs at something Katie says.

"Is—did you—" Fred stops. He studies her face.

"What?"

"Something's different."

Hermione draws in a breath. "What? What would be different?"

"Look at me, 'Mione," Alicia says. Hermione does. "I don't see anything different."

"There," Hermione says, "see, Fred?"

"Wait," Angelina cuts in. "Look over here? Smile? With your bloody teeth, 'Mione." Reluctantly, Hermione bares her teeth. "Aha! What happened to your teeth?"

"What do you mean?"

Fred reaches up and grabs her face and pulls it around so she's facing him. She feels her cheeks burn red beneath his hold. He stares at her. "Smile."

"No!"

"They're smaller," he says. He almost sounds upset. "Why?"

"It's nothing." Honestly, she's surprised anyone even noticed. Then she thinks back on how much she hated the size of her teeth, and how relieved she is to have them actually align nicely now, and she's not so surprised anymore.

Alicia glares. "I've heard you use 'it's nothing' enough to know that the only time it ever is _something_, you say it's nothing."

She sighs. "A jinx misfired and hit me. My teeth grew and I—well. I didn't tell Madam Pomfrey to _stop_ quite when she would have for my teeth to be back to their normal size. I just let her keep going."

"Oh," Fred says. "Are you more comfortable with them like this?"

"Loads," Hermione nods.

"That's good."

"Is it? You guys didn't seem too happy about it."

"That's because you were acting like something bad had happened," Alicia tells her. "As long as you're comfortable and okay, that's all that's important, 'Mione."

Hermione thinks back to Snape's comment, her utter embarrassment and humiliation in front of her class and the Slytherins. She thinks that his cruel comment can't compete with the overwhelming love from her friends, and protection of Harry and Ron. She thinks she's perfectly comfortable right here, yes.

*\

"Want a jam tart, 'Mine?" Fred asks as they celebrate Harry's successful completion of the first task (and Hermione celebrates Harry and Ron making up).

Hermione glances at the platter and picks one up. "You know if these are hexed I'll jinx all your hair off your head?" She takes a bite, holding steady, threatening eye contact with him.

Fred's grin falters. "I'm glad I didn't offer you a cream puff."

Across the room, Neville stops chewing his cream puff.

*\

Quidditch is cancelled for the year, but that doesn't stop Hermione's friends from conjugating at the pitch at least once a week for a mock-up game. This week she's left late in the afternoon on a Saturday. It's the perfect opportunity to get ahead in her classes, so she carries her workload up to the library and settles in.

Hermione is entirely unsure of how much time passes before she hears someone clear their throat.

"Eh—em, may I… sit here?"

She looks up from her books to the intruding voice and stops herself short. Viktor Krum is standing in front of her looking absolutely petrified. He looks over his shoulder and Hermione wonders if he's trying to escape a horde of fans. When he looks back to her, she smiles. "Of course, yes."

"Thank you," he says with a nod. Books spill out of his school bag when he sets it down on the table and his face goes red as he races to collect them all and move them back to his bag. "Sorry."

"No," Hermione shakes her head, "no need to be sorry. Happens to everyone, doesn't it?" No, she thinks, it doesn't happen to everyone. No one carries around that many books except for her.

"I am Viktor. Is nice to meet you."

"Oh, nice to meet you, as well. I'm Hermione," she tells him. She sticks out her hand and he shakes it. "You know, I can teach you a spell to expand your school bag so you can fit all of your books in. If you'd like, that is."

Viktor's eyebrows furrow together. "Vot do you mean?"

Hermione lifts her school bag from the floor. With a grin, she tells Viktor, "watch." From there, she proceeds to pull out seven books from her bag, and with each book, Viktor's eyebrows seem to reach higher on his forehead. "I created a spell with my professor so my bag would expand on the inside, but not the outside."

"Expand?"

"Yes, but only on the inside, so it can hold my books."

"No, no, eh—vot is _expand?_" Once again, Viktor's face colors red.

"Oh! It—well. When something expands it… grows bigger? I guess that would be the most accurate way to put it."

Viktor looks at her bag, and then to his own. "I vould like that very much, Her-min-ninny."

"Oh. It's _Hermione_."

"Her-moan-ninny?"

"Her-my-knee."

"Herm-in-ninny."

"Her-_my_-knee."

"Hermy-owny."

Hermione laughs. "That's close enough. Can I see your bag?"

Viktor handed the bag over easily enough. The books sprawled across the table—both in front of Hermione and Viktor—went forgotten for the next hour.

*\

Another two weeks pass. The school is buzzing about the Yule Ball announcement from a few days ago, but Hermione couldn't care less at the moment, not when there's a test in potions next week and Professor Snape seems to be twice as moody this year. She's even recruited Alicia and Angelina to help her study, not willing to leave any wiggle room in her answers for Snape to dock points.

"Hermy-owny."

Hermione looks up. She smiles at Viktor, her stress forgotten for the time being. "Hello, Viktor."

He nods at her, then shifts on his feet. Alicia and Angelina are eyeing her, but she ignores them. "May I sit?" Viktor asks, motioning at the chair beside her.

"Of course!" Hermione nods, moving some of her books out of the way. She turns to her friends. "Alicia, Angelina, this is Viktor Krum. Viktor, these are my friends, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson."

Viktor greets them kindly. He takes out one of his books and a scroll of parchment, but doesn't set to work like he normally does. He seems to be hesitating before finally coming to some sort of decision. He turns to her, so his entire body is facing her. "Hermy-owny," he begins. "This Yule Ball that is coming up. I vos vondering if you vould accompany me?"

Hermione's eyebrows shoot up, and she turns to Alicia and Angelina, whose expressions seem stuck between excitement and shock. Alicia kicks Hermione under the table, and she jumps. She smiles at Viktor. "I'd enjoy that, yes."

Viktor's face blossoms into a smile. "Ah! Chu—eh—vonderful, yes?"

Hermione blushes. She nods and then returns to her studies, ignoring her friends trying to get her attention across from her, even though they very well could still be trying to help her study. She doesn't want to chance it make a fool of herself in front of Viktor, and she knows that she might, if forced to face them.

Once dinner arrives however, she can't avoid them. (Or, she could sit with Harry and Ron, but then Fred, George, and Ginny would all pout about it and she can't handle all three of them pouting at once.)

She arrives before Alicia and Angelina and takes a spot near Katie, Ginny, and Lee. They follow in shortly after her, and she tries to deter them by taking small bites, one after another so her mouth is never empty. They don't care and jump right in as soon as they've piled food on their own plates.

"Merlin, Hermione," Alicia giggles, completely losing her calm demeanor. "You're going to the Yule Ball with _Krum!_"

"_Shhh!_" she hisses. She glances around, but no one seems to have heard. "I… It doesn't need to be announced."

"You're going to the ball with Krum?" Lee asks, excitement filling his voice. "Do y'think you can get me—"

"No! No autographs! This is exactly why no one needs to know!" she huffs, and shoves another bite of her dinner into her mouth.

"Know what?" two nearly identical voices chime from around her head. She glances to both sides and scowls as the twins sit down on either side of her. With a quick glance she sees George settling in on her left, leaving Fred on her right.

"Nothing—"

"Hermione's got a _daaate_," Ginny sing-songs.

To her right, Fred freezes in shock as he's loading up his plate. "Oh? Who was brave enough to go up against our dear 'Mione-love?"

"_Krum_," Angelina says. "He even told her when we were leaving the library that he's been going there for weeks to build up the nerve to ask her on a date and that the Yule Ball was his perfect—eh, choice? Was it his perfect choice, 'Mione?"

Hermione glares at her friend. Angelina continues to grin at her, but Hermione will not break. She will not encourage this. She will not—

"'D'you mean _chance_, Viktor?'" Alicia croons in a sweet, high voice.

"'Eh, yes. _Chance_, Herm-own-ninny,'" Angelina answers back with a deep voice.

"'It's Her-my-knee, Viktor—'"

"I'm sorry," Hermione cuts in. "Is that supposed to be _me?_"

Alicia grins at Hermione and flutters her eyelashes. "Yes?" she answers in the same voice.

"You're both the _worst_."

Angelina tosses a green bean at her. "Is that why you ditched us for Krum when we left the library?"

"_No_, I left because—"

"Because Viktor wanted to get to know her, remember?" Alicia says.

"My, my, my, 'Mine," George chuckles and takes a rough smack to the back of his head from Fred when the ''Mine' slips out. He grimaces and rubs the spot with a hand but carries on, "you've gone ahead and done your own brand of magic on the poor bloke!"

"You made him fall in _love_," Katie agrees, clasping her hands under her chin dreamily.

"I did not!" Hermione protests. "We're going as _friends_, I'll have you know, and—"

"There was nothing _friendly_ about those looks he was giving you," Alicia sniggers.

Ginny nods. "I've seen him talking to you a few times and I think you're the only person I've ever seen him smile at."

"If Ginny hadn't just said that I still would be under the impression that he couldn't smile," Lee says.

"Well," Fred says, tossing an arm around Hermione's shoulders. When he leans in close and the skin crawling starts back up, Hermione can do nothing but freeze because _oh_. She thinks she's figured it out, now. Piss poor timing, if you ask her. "Now there's only one thing left to do."

She swallows heavily, even though there's nothing in her mouth and braces herself. "What's that?" she asks warily.

George throws his arm over Hermione's shoulders next so it's overlapping with his brother's. When Fred's arm is pressed tighter to her neck, her chest swells and deflates, as if she's just gone over a large hill in the car. No one seems to notice that Hermione is in the middle of a life altering realization. George leans in just as his brother had. "We've got to make sure his intentions are pure, and just have a nice… _chat_ with him."

Shrugging off their arms, she shakes her head vehemently. "No. No, no, _no_, you will do _no_ such things, and if you _do_, I will hex all of your food with your dumb _Canary Cream_ spell to turn you into—"

"I _told_ you that you never should have divulged that information to her," Lee grumbles.

"Hermione would never," George says confidently.

Hermione retrieves her wand from her side and aims it at George's plate.

"_But_," George says, reaching and pushing her arm down and away from his food, "on the off chance that she ever would, we should listen to her."

"Can't believe you'd use our own hexes against us, Granger," Fred laments, though his eyes are mirthful. Hermione freezes—she can't think of a damn thing to say to him in this moment. What if it somehow gives away exactly what she's thinking? What she's feeling? "After all we've been through, all we've seen together…"

"You still prank me and I'm your sister and I've been through all my thirteen years with you," Ginny cuts in, much to Hermione's relief. "Three years of friendship is nothing on that scale."

"Ah, but you're our _sister_," Fred agrees.

"Family members are never off limits," George explains.

"Oi, why don't _we_ get this information?" Angelina frowns. "We've been around longer than Hermione."

Lee smirks and shoots a glance a Fred. Hermione looks at Fred who stares down his friend. "Well, don't you know—"

"Hermione appreciates the brilliance behind our creations," Fred cuts Lee off.

"We're also worried she'd owl Mum if she didn't know everything we were doing was technically safe," George adds.

"I most likely would _not_," Hermione says.

Fred barks out a laugh and nudges her with his elbow. "Thanks for the reassurance, 'Mine."

Her heart flutters at the nickname. She doesn't know what else to do, so she nudges him back. "Any time, Fredrick."

*\

The realization of her feelings for Fred has changed absolutely nothing. Despite her Gryffindor bravery, this is a risk she cannot take. Before anything else, Fred is her best friend and she refuses to ruin that. She's happy with the decision for the most part, even if she feels more on edge now that she's aware of her feelings. She hasn't let it impact their friendship, not in the slightest. She just wishes she could turn off the electricity that rises to the surface of her skin whenever he's near.

For example, Hermione is with Ron and Harry in the common room when they approach. It doesn't surprise Hermione when Fred and George take seats next to her when she's with Harry and Ron, not anymore. After all, the line between her two groups of friends has been getting blurrier and blurrier. However, even with her acceptance of her feelings, it still surprises her when her arms break in to goose pimples when Fred crams himself in to the seat next to her.

She listens as the three siblings talk about Pigwidgeon, and then Fred casually ask, "so… you two got dates for the ball yet?"

Hermione glares at him out of the corner of her eye—she does _not_ want Ron finding out that she is going with Viktor, not when he'll start asking for an autograph, to meet him properly, and do everything that Hermione wants to _avoid_.

Thankfully Ron doesn't notice the wording, and shakes his head. "Nope."

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," he says, and smirks at Hermione.

She feels like she's going to be sick her stomach has dropped so far.

"Who're you going with, then?" Ron asks.

"Angelina," Fred says and—

"What?"

Hermione looks at Ron, who asked the same question at the same time as her.

Ron continues on, "you've already asked her?"

"Good point," Fred says. He turns around. "Oi! Angelina!"

Angelina looks over to the group. "What?"

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Hermione turns back to her work and tries to ignore the flare of irrational anger when Angelina calls back "all right then." It's ridiculous. Hermione _has_ a date. Both Fred and Angelina know this. Just because Fred is her best friend and also happens to be her crush doesn't mean for a moment that he shouldn't go to the ball with someone! Fred and Angelina _deserve_ one another. They're easily two of the most wonderful people in this school, and in Hermione's opinion, the world. If Fred is going to be with someone who isn't Hermione, Hermione can at least be glad he's going to be with someone as incredible as Angelina.

She also thinks maybe she can be a little bit sad.

*\

"Don't laugh—" Hermione hears Ginny saying as she climbs through the portrait hole. She sees Ginny sitting with Harry and Ron and frowns.

"Why weren't you two at dinner?" she asks, leaving her other friends behind.

"Because—oh, shut up laughing you two—because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball," Ginny says.

Ron's mirthful expression falls, as does Harry's, and he glares at his sister. "Thanks a bunch, Ginny."

Hermione tries to hold her laughter in. "All the good-looking ones taken, Ron? Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone _somewhere_ who'll have you."

From behind her she can hear the twins, Lee, and the girls laughing. Ron, however, was not. He also did not look offended or upset though she knows her words would usually throw him into a red-faced fit. He was just—staring at her. She shifts uncomfortably, and he sits up straighter. "Hermione, Neville's right—you _are_ a girl…"

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Lee mutters sarcastically.

Hermione scowls. "Oh. Well spotted."

Ron has the decency to blush a little at that but continues nonetheless. "Yes, well—you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh come on, we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has."

"I can't come with you because I'm already going with someone."

"No you're not! You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh, Ronni," Fred says. It sounds like he's holding back laughter but Hermione can't find a single humorous thing about his words.

"Oh, did I?" Hermione asks. She turns to Alicia. "Alicia, did I do that?"

"No Hermione," Alicia answers in a professional tone, though she's fighting to keep the corners of her lips from turning up. "I don't believe you did."

"Right," she says, and looks back to Ron. "Just because it's taken _you_ three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one _else_ has spotted I'm a girl."

Ron is quiet for a moment, and then he grins. "Oh, no," Katie mutters. "Don't do it."

"Okay, okay. We know you're a girl. That do? Will you come now?"

"He did it," Angelina sighs.

"Right," Fred says, stepping forward and putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder just as she feels her fists clench and her mouth open to yell. "If Hermione hadn't already had a date, I would have asked her—no offense to Angelina. She probably would have said yes to Neville. There's a Ravenclaw fifth year that's been making eyes at her since the ball was announced. But she does have a date and as much as I'd love to see what she'd do to you if you kept going, I also don't want to see her expelled."

"Why would _you_ ask Hermione?" Ron scoffs.

The hand on Hermione's shoulder tightens. This time, Katie steps forward. "Ron, stop. Hermione is our friend. She would have been going with someone in our group if her date hadn't asked her before we even started talking about the ball. You sound like a git."

Ron is left staring at the girl trying to think of something to say as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

Hermione can't say she doesn't find it a little funny.

*\

"'Mione?"

She looks up from the table she'd fled to. The music from the band is too loud in her ears and she thinks about just leaving the ball entirely. "Hey," she says as she spots Alicia, Katie, and Angelina walking towards her. "I'm sorry for just leaving like that."

"You don't need to apologize," Katie says. She takes a seat on the steps next to Hermione and grabs her hand. "We want to make sure you're alright."

"Yeah," Hermione laughs, but it's empty, "I'm fine."

"Yeah," Alicia says, "I can tell by the tears. I like to cry when I'm fine, too."

It's a genuine laugh that comes from her this time, but it's still weak. She wipes at her eyes and silently thanks Merlin that Angelina spelled the light make up she'd worn for tonight into place. "I just—I don't know why I care so much what Ronald thinks, honestly. Viktor is… he's sweet, and smart, and funny. I'm allowed to have a good time with him, aren't I?"

"_Yes_," Katie says firmly. "It's ridiculous that you're even asking that, 'Mione. You deserve to have a great time with him."

"Then why does Ron think it's so _horrid_ that I'm here with Viktor?"

Angelina frowns. "I… I think he might be jealous."

"Jealous?" Hermione scoffs. "What would Ron have to be jealous of? Did _he_ want to take Viktor to the ball? Well, that's entirely possible, actually—"

"_No_," Angelina says. "He wanted to take _you_."

"He didn't even know I was a girl, Ange."

"Yes he did," Katie says. "Everyone does. Ron may be an idiot, but this makes sense. It's his first chance to see you in a light where you'd be more than friends and—"

"Oh _no_," Angelina mutters under her breath. Hermione is about to ask what is wrong but before she can, Angelina breaks out into a fit of manic giggles. Unsure of what exactly to do, she looks to Alicia and Katie. Both of them are wide-eyed as they stare at Angelina. "This is going to be _awful_." The tone in Angelina's voice is the exact opposite of her words.

Hermione is absolutely lost.

"I think… Herms, I think they're right," Alicia says. "Ron _is_ jealous and—well. I'm happy for you and Viktor in the very least. And you should be happy about Viktor. He seems like a good bloke."

Hermione agrees, but—"what is Angelina talking about?"

"It's nothing you have to worry about," Alicia tells her. She grabs Hermione's hand and pulls her close. "Nothing you have to worry about if Viktor is treating you well and you're happy."

Is she? Yes, there's no doubt that Viktor is treating her well. He's the perfect gentleman and Hermione can't seem to stop blushing around him what with all the compliments he's doling out to her. Is she happy though? In this moment, no. In this moment, she's furious with Ron and hurt about what Ron said. She understands Alicia is talking about whether or not she's happy with Viktor, but she doesn't understand how she can be when one of her friends so loudly disapproves. Yet still, she thinks that once she's able to put Ron's protests in the back of her mind, she'll go back to enjoying the night.

"I guess I am," she says. "I was plenty happy before Ron opened his mouth."

"That's all that matters. Go enjoy your night, 'Mione. Your date is looking for you." Alicia points to a figure sat alone at one of the tables. Two drinks sit in front of him. A girl comes up and speaks with him, and his only answer seems to be a shaken head. The girl storms off. Hermione smiles.

"I think I will." Before she can make her way to the table, she thinks about putting Ron from her mind, and what would help best with that. Her mind drifts to the only thing that can make her happier than these three girls. "Hey, where are Fred, George, and Lee?"

Angelina, who is still wiping tears away from her fit of laughter, nods towards the entrance of the hall. "They pulled Ron out with them a few minutes ago. I expect they'll be back soon. You best be getting back to your date though."

Hermione frowns. She really should. She'd left him with no explanation. "Right. Tell them thanks, I guess. And if you see Ginny tell her what happened, would you? I know she's going to ask later tonight but I'd rather not recount all of this."

"Of course," Alicia says. She drops Hermione's hand and pulls her in to a hug. "Now _go_."

*\

It's not until the ball is winding down that she sees Fred or George again. Hermione is sitting at the table with Viktor who is talking animatedly about potions. Hermione isn't entirely sure she can follow—not only is his curriculum much more advanced than hers, but as he talks, he jumps back and forth between English and Bulgarian, seemingly with no notice. She's still ecstatic to see his enthusiasm. From what she's learned about him, potions is his strong subject. Just about everything else is his weaker subject.

As Viktor tells her about his success brewing Veritserum (she thinks) and how in their potions curriculum they take the truth serum in order to build up a tolerance to it (she's sure about this one), Fred approaches. Viktor pauses his speech and looks up to the redhead. Hermione smiles at him.

"So sorry to cut in," Fred says, "but I was hoping I might get one dance with my friend before the night has ended?"

Viktor looks at Hermione, who is looking at him. "Is your choice," he says, motioning towards Fred with an open hand. "Cannot make for you."

Hermione grins and stands from her seat. "I'll be right back?"

"Have good time," Viktor says.

Once Hermione is around the table and standing next to Fred, he extends a hand to her. She takes it and allows him to lead her to the dance floor. There's a mellow beat playing—she can see Neville and Ginny dancing at arms length in the far corner, Alicia and George twirling exaggeratedly, Lee, Katie, and Angelina finishing off their drinks, and Ron and Harry still pouting.

Fred pulls her body in close to hers, places a hand delicately on her waist, and adjusts his grip on her hand. "Have you had a good time?"

"Yes," Hermione answers. "A wonderful time, really."

"Even with Ron trying his best to ruin it?"

"Yes, even with that," she says. "What did you say to him, anyways? He looked even more upset when you came back with him."

"Eh—small threats, really. Nothing too worrisome."

"Fred!" Hermione gasps. "He's your brother!"

"And you're my best friend," he shrugs. It feels odd, having Fred be so serious. It's happened many times before, but here, dancing at a proper ball, it felt too—well. Hermione didn't want to get her mind going. "I'd do most anything for Ron—even die for the arsehole—but I won't let him treat my friends like rubbish."

Hermione squeezes his hand and smiles up at him. "I appreciate that, you know?"

"I do."

"You know what Angelina said?" she asks in an eager tone.

Fred laughs. "What?"

"She thinks he was _jealous_. Can you believe that?"

The smile wipes off his face. "I—well, yeah, probably actually."

"What?" Hermione asks, surprised. "But—it's _Ron_. And I'm _Hermione_. You can't tell me you've ever thought of those two names as if they'd be linked romantically, can you?"

"I can't, no," he answers honestly.

"So then why would he be jealous?"

"Because you're you," Fred laughs, as if Hermione is missing something obvious. She's starting to feel like she might be. Fred looks over to Ron and frowns. "Jealous or not, he's still got no reason to treat you like he has been. "

Hermione nods. "I can agree with that, at least."

"_At least?_ What's that supposed to mean? You're my best friend, aren't you supposed to agree with everything I say?" Fred pouts.

"Oh, _Merlin_, no," she laughs. "You'll have to take my sanity before I agree with the majority of what you say."

Fred pulls her in closer until their fronts are pressed together. He rests his chin atop her head and says, "that can be arranged."

Standing here, with her heart nearly beating out her chest, she thinks it already has been.

*\

The rest of Christmas holidays pass swiftly and the start of a new term passes with little more excitement than Hagrid temporarily losing his post.

Hermione is sitting with her friends the morning after their first Hogsmeade trip when an owl swoops down and drops a letter for her. Conversation carries on around her as she reads through the letter from her parents. They drone on and on about the web page that they've had someone design for their dentistry practice and how incredible the Internet has become in even the few months that Hermione has been away. They also ask her to thank Fred and George for the picture (_"we think it's a picture. It moves! What do you call pictures that move?"_).

"What picture did you send my parents?" Hermione says, loud enough to pause conversations. She keeps rereading that part of the letter over and over again, completely unable to process it.

"Oh," George says, "we thought you probably wouldn't send them one so we thought we would."

"I didn't even think of it," she admits. It's not that she didn't want her parents to see her, or that she didn't care for them to. She simply didn't think to send a picture from a Hogwarts event to her Muggle parents.

"We noticed," Fred says, and holds up the letter that an owl had dropped off for him. "They wrote us to thank us and say what a horrible daughter you are for not even thinking of sending them one."

"Sure," Hermione rolls her eyes.

Fred quirks an eyebrow and hands the letter over. Hermione takes it and reads it over. When she's done, Fred is smirking. "Your mum likes me better."

"I think she actually likes me best," George cuts in. "I _was_ the one who took the picture."

Fred grimaces and nods back to the letter. "She might actually like Viktor better. '_Tell my daughter to bring that boy home this summer!_' Can you believe it, Georgie? Us being snubbed so thoughtlessly?"

"Is this who you've been sending all the owls to?" Hermione demands. "Just how long have you two been owling my parents? _Why_ have you been?"

"We haven't," George says. "We've been owling—well."

"D'you remember our bet with Bagman?" Fred asks. "At the World Cup?"

"Yes, why?" Hermione frowns.

"When he paid us, he accidentally gave us the payment in leprechaun gold. He's a hard man to reach, though."

"Oh, no," Hermione frowns. "That's why you interrupted his talk with Harry?"

"Well, that and Harry looked like he needed saving," George says.

"But mostly because we want our money," Fred tells Hermione honestly.

Before Hermione has the chance to say anything, a scone hits Hermione squarely in the forehead. Hermione yelps while the twins gasp in surprise. All of them look up to see a wide-eyed Ginny. "I was aiming for George!"

"_What?_" George yells. "Why were you aiming for me?"

"You've been ignoring me for the past five minutes!"

"Don't you want to be a chaser, Gin?" Fred asks as he picks up the scone and tosses it up in the air. His eyes turn to his sister. "You'll need to work on your aim."

And then he throws the scone back, and hits the spot between her eyes.

In less than a second, at least three scones whiz towards and past Hermione, coming from all directions as the girls all try to hit Fred, George, and Lee. Hermione gathers up her letter and shoves a few untouched scones into her bag and makes her escape.

*\

"Oh, this is no use," Hermione groans. She shuts one of the many books spread in front of them. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," Fred's voice says as two hands fall heavy on her shoulders. He leans over so his face is next to hers. She looks at him—almost going cross-eyed from how close his face is to hers. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

"What're you two doing here?" Ron asks, scowling at Fred, who stands back up to his full height but leaves his hands resting on Hermione's shoulders.

"Looking for you," George answers. "McGonagall wants you, Ron." He turns to Hermione with a quirked eyebrow. "And you, 'Mione."

Hermione tenses. Fred's hands squeeze her shoulders. "_Why?_"

"Dunno," Fred shrugs. He looks uncomfortable. "She was looking a bit… _grim_, though."

George motions between himself and Fred. "We're supposed to take you down to her office."

Hermione looks at the plethora of books spread across the table and then at a clock hanging on the wall. It was nearly six. She stands up. "We'll meet you back in the common room. Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"

"Right," Harry says, but he doesn't sound confident.

The twins lead them out of the library and down the corridors. While they walk, Ron talks to his brothers about the lack of progress they've made with Harry. Hermione wants to join in, but her mind is too focused on what could be so important that Professor McGonagall called her and Ron away from Harry so close to the second task. They weren't breaking any rules by helping him, were they?

She didn't care either way. This tournament could kill Harry if he ends up inadequately prepared, and she'd rather get in trouble for helping him than losing her best friend.

It's not much longer before they stop outside of Professor McGonagall's office. Ron hesitates outside the office and, if Hermione is being honest, she does, too.

"Hey," Fred calls. He's staring at her when she turns to him, but his eyes flick to Ron, as well. "Be careful, yeah? Minnie really did look unsettled earlier."

"We don't think she's about to send you on _another_ quest against the Dark Arts," George says.

"Not without Harry, anyway," Fred chimes.

George nods, "but we'd feel better if you could promise not to do anything stupid all the same."

Ron looks between his brothers. "When have you two ever cared about doing something stupid?"

Fred laughs, but it's off. He can't meet their eyes. "You're right, Ronnikins. Make no promises, what do we care? See you at the lake tomorrow."

He runs off down the hall then, and George frowns. He stares after his brother, and looks back to Hermione and Ron. "Well, _I_ still care, so please promise no stupidity. 'Right?"

Hermione nods. "Of course, George. I'll find you guys later, okay?"

(Just before Dumbledore casts the spell on her, she thinks she made the wrong promise to George.)

*\

"So," Fred says, "you're the person that Krum would sorely miss?"

Hermione's face ignites. "I suppose so."

He hums. His eyes are fixated on the lake that she'd been submerged in less than twenty-four hours ago. "Always thought him a bit dim but he's managed to find one of the only ones in this castle worth missing."

"He-he's not _dim_," Hermione frowns.

"Bet he can't keep up with you though, can he?"

"No, but—well, not to sound full of it but I haven't met many students who can."

There's a long stretch of silence. "I guess I can't be angry with Harry anymore, can I?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, I always was angry with him for putting your life at risk. But this time Harry wasn't the one who got you tied up at the bottom of a lake, was he?" Fred says. He curls his arm around her. "Now I just have you to be angry at, because it seems that it's _you_ who puts yourself in all these positions."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "It's not like I _mean_ to."

"You'd better not." His hand moves to her hair and tangles itself in her frizz. "If you did, I'd have to genuinely be angry with you."

"That wouldn't be anything new; you've yelled at me many times."

He shrugs. "I was scared. I _am_ scared. What would you do if something tried to take one of your friends from you?"

Hermione doesn't have to answer. They both _know_ the answer. She'd stop at almost nothing. She's risked her life several times already for the sake of Harry's, and she knows she will continue to do so. She doesn't want to think about if it were Fred that was in danger. She doesn't think she can, it'd be too hard.

Fred doesn't press. He lets her sit in silence and moves his hand to massage her scalp. Even while she knows this has been the nature of her relationship with Fred for all the years that she's known him, it feels different now. Sitting in silence and feeling assured that she's safe by nothing more than physical contact. She had never acknowledged, or perhaps even realized, how she felt for Fred before. Now it's all that she can think about when they have a moment together.

They have a lot of moments together, really.

"Why are you always the one to find me, Fred?"

His hand stops. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just—whenever I'm trying to hide or taking a break you always seem to find me."

"Is that a bad thing? I can stop."

Hermione smiles and leans into him. His hand starts massaging her head again. "No, it's not a bad thing. You're my best friend. I'm safe with you. I don't need to hide or take breaks from you. I simply don't understand why it's never Alicia or Harry, or any of the others."

"It's probably because I'm always looking for you," he says. Hermione draws in a sharp breath. Fred keeps on talking and doesn't seem to have noticed. "You're my best friend, too. And, well, I've grown up with George by my side my entire life, so it's hard for me to remind myself that not everyone is used to spending the majority of their waking hours with their closest friends. I see George and Lee all the time—we're in the same classes, in the same dormitory, and they don't leave me at lunch to sit with their other friends," he teases with a smirk. "But I always have to find you. I've gotten quite good at it."

"I don't mean to hide."

"I think you do," he says. "That's okay. Your life is hectic. Your friends are all idiots."

"Well, one of them is." She stares pointedly at Fred.

"Listen, 'Mine, I know I've got the same color hair as Ron, but—"

"Oh—shut it," she laughs.

He grins down at her and pulls her head into his chest until they're pressed together. He presses his lips to the back of her head. He leaves them there and tells her softly, "I'm the one with the idiot friend. Can't _believe_ you were tied up down there yesterday."

"Hey!"

"What am I supposed to think about that?" he laughs, pulling away so Hermione can turn to him. "Am I supposed to be _happy_ that you could have drowned? Or thankful that _Viktor_ didn't let you?"

There's a teasing note in his voice that Hermione wants to fight against, so she shoves him into the lake. When he resurfaces, Hermione grins. "Why don't I tie _you_ up at the bottom of the lake so you have plenty of time to think about it?"

"Will Viktor save me?"

"No, he doesn't save the idiot friends."

"How did he save you, then?"

"I am not—Fred, do _not_. Don't you—_Fredrick Gideon Weasley!_"

She can't yell at him any further after he drags her by the ankle into the freezing water.

*\

"'Mine? 'Mione!" Fred calls after her. She hears a _thunk_ from behind her but doesn't stop. Doesn't even think about stopping. She makes it out of the hall easily, but when she's just about to turn the corner, a hand grabs her arm. "_Hermione!_" Fred hisses. She yelps in pain when her hands knock against each other and his hand falls away immediately, as if her robe has burned his hand.

"_What_, Fred?" Hermione asks, turning around while the sores on her skin continue to grow.

Fred's eyes are locked on her hands. "What—let's go. Now," he says. He places a hand on the small of her back and pushes her towards Madam Pomfrey's.

She doesn't bother trying to stop her tears on the way there because—well. It _hurts_. Fred shields her from everyone they pass and talks under his breath to her—"just one more corridor, almost there, gonna bloody rip their heads off." She thinks the last one may not have been for her to hear, but she does anyways.

Her mind isn't fully there as Madam Pomfrey works. The pain is bearable, but it's so constant that Hermione can't shift her mind from it, even as Fred tries talking to her about _Hogwarts: A History_ and his current course work in spell theory. He talks about how he and George have gone to most of their classes, but they've turned in less than half of their homework. He quickly switches the subject to a charm they're creating a cream to remove bruises instantly ("_unfortunately it doesn't help with your current situation_") when he notices that she's finally giving him attention about his missed assignments.

Madam Pomfrey pays little care to Fred's ramblings as she gives Hermione a potion and lathers her hands in some sort of balm. After letting Hermione's hands sit for twenty minutes with the balm, Madam Pomfrey rinses them carefully and applies a different, thicker cream to Hermione's hands. She wraps them up in bandages, so large that when put together, they're the same size as her head.

When Madam Pomfrey finally seems to be finished, she tells Hermione to return tomorrow at breakfast to have the bandages removed and the cream changed. "They should be back to normal within the next day or two, but notify me immediately if any new symptoms arise."

"Of course," Hermione agrees. "Thank you so much."

Madam Pomfrey smiles. "It's not a problem dear."

Fred leads her out of the infirmary then. She's prepared to head to Herbology but Fred is quick to snake his arm around her waist. "Not so quick," he says. "How much breakfast did you get?"

Hermione shrugs. "I got enough, I suppose."

"Right, come along with me," Fred demands.

She thinks about protesting, but, well. She's three weeks ahead in Herbology and she did only manage a few links of sausage earlier, _plus_ she'll never miss a chance to visit the house-elves, even if she had just seen them the day before. She hasn't missed a single class all term; she thinks she'll be alright.

When they reach the kitchens, Fred herds her through the door and ecstatic cheers greet them.

Hermione says hi to all the elves that gather around her legs. Three of them in particular—Pippit, Gren, and Tuly—are the ones she sees the most and they're the first to notice her hands.

Gren gasps when he sees. "Miss Granger is hurt?"

Pippit and Tuly cry out and usher her over to a seat. She laughs at their overzealous behavior. "Just a little injury."

Tuly grips at her shirt (given to her by Hermione after days of reassurance—"_it will hardly mean you have to leave Hogwarts. Dumbledore is your master, not me!_") and tugs anxiously. "Is Miss Hermione okay?"

"Perfectly fine," she smiles.

"Perfectly fine but hungry," Fred says, still over by the doorway. Two house-elves are hanging off his robes. "Miss Hermione didn't get to eat her breakfast this morning."

Pippit launches himself towards the oven. "Pippit will make the chocolate waffles, Miss Hermione!"

The other elves scramble around, asking Fred what he'd like, bringing their plates and silverware to them, and getting them drinks. Dobby sets an orange juice in front of Hermione. He smiles at her.

"Hello, Dobby. How is Winky today?"

Dobby's ears droop. "Winky is still drinking, she is."

Hermione sighs. Winky is the reason that she's begun incorporating a specialized therapist into her S.P.E.W. proposal—a therapist to help a house-elf through when they've been fired, freed, or their _master_ (Hermione still despises that word) has died. The only thing she's not pleased about is such a thing doesn't exist now to help Winky. When she had tried to speak with her the day before, Winky was crying too hard to hear a word of what Hermione was saying. To try and avoid upsetting the elf further (and build trust), Hermione had apologized for Winky's sadness and wished her well before moving away. She has a feeling that it will be a lot of allowing Winky to cry before the elf can manage a single word.

Fred asks Dobby a question then—something about Dobby's upcoming vacation, and a few of the house-elves that are closer to them glance over, ears perked up. Their eyes are bright and curious and Hermione feels a surge of success in her chest.

She looks across the table to Fred, who is focused fully on the house-elf in front of him, and smiles. She wonders how different things would be without Fred by her side. She can't imagine that life, but she doesn't need to. He's here in this life.

*\

Hermione ended up almost thirty minutes late to her History of Magic exam, but completed it with ease well within the allotted time. There had only been two students left after her and neither were Ron, so she made her way to the Great Hall.

She made a mental note to thank Sirius later. Had it not been for her knowledge of Sirius, James, and Peter having broken the law regarding animagus registration, the thought of Rita Skeeter being unregistered never would have crossed her mind. Once her mind got stuck on how Rita had been _bugging_ Harry and the others, she kept drifting back to the beetle. Now she just had to be vigilant.

The Great Hall is exploding with noise when she gets there. Harry and the Weasleys' are sitting near the front of the hall and it takes her almost a full minute to reach them. When she does, she taps Fred on the shoulder. "Fred? Can you move—oh, thank you." Fred slides down easily and she settles into a seat between Fred and Ron, directly across from Harry.

"How did you test go?" Fred asks. His voice sounds concerned. "You were in there for a while."

Hermione looks away from him under the guise of filling her plate. She knows it won't fool him, but at least she won't have to watch the disbelief take over. "I actually ended up late for the exam."

George drops his fork to his plate on the other side of Fred and coughs. He leans around his twin and narrows his eyes. "I'm sorry, _what?_"

"It was a one time thing!" Hermione huffs.

Across the table, Harry starts to ask, "are you going to tell us—?"

Hermione widens her eyes and shakes her head. She flicks her eyes to Mrs. Weasley and Harry seems to get the picture.

"Hello, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley finally greets her as well, but her voice is cold and unkind.

"Hello." Hermione tries smiling. Mrs. Weasley pays no mind, and the smile slips from her face. She turns to look at Ron, at Ginny, the twins. Had she done something?

"Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in _Witch Weekly_, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend," Harry says. Hermione shifts uncomfortably in her seat; she had almost forgotten all about those articles now that she' figured out just how to catch her.

Mrs. Weasley sits up straight. "Oh! No, of course I didn't!"

Hermione thinks she might have been lying as the next words out of Mrs. Weasley's mouth towards Hermione were warm and through a genuine smile. She asks about how her exams have gone and how her parents are, and Hermione answers respectfully.

"And how about you two, how are your exams?" Mrs. Weasley frowns at the twins. "Or would I rather not know?"

"Well enough," George shrugs. "You probably wouldn't like to know the amount of assignments we missed, but we've passed each exam so far this term. We'll have to wait to hear back about final exams, but we're not worried."

"We need to pass our N.E.W.T.s so Hermione will have to admit we're better than her," Fred jokes.

Hermione rolls her eyes at them. "That wasn't the deal and I would never tell such a lie."

Ginny's face lights up. "There was a deal?"

"About their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, yes," Hermione says. She gives Ginny a look, hoping to convey that she would tell the girl later.

"About their O.W.L.s?" Mrs. Weasley asks. "What do you mean?"

Fred laughs. "We were being lax about our O.W.L.s at the end of last term. We would have only gotten maybe half the scores we did without 'Mine pushing us."

"'Mione made a deal with us," George tells his mum, "and we're going to make sure she has to follow through on her part."

"What was the deal?" Ron asks.

"Well, we can't tell you that, Ronnikins," George says.

"Ruin the whole surprise, wouldn't it?" Fred says.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "It won't be a _surprise_, Fred, I could just as easily—"

Fred snakes his arm around her shoulders and covers her mouth. "Now, now, 'Mine. It'd hardly be fair if you got to choose the losing terms of this bet."

Hermione ducks out from his hold, hoping her red face can be written-off by her annoyance, and scoffs. "I never made a bet! I gave you an ultimatum!"

"Those are the same things to us."

"They are not! They are definitively _very_ different things!"

"Not to us," George shrugs.

"I'm getting you a dictionary for Christmas," she says.

"Oh, good," Fred says, "we still have six months to pretend we don't know the definitions of words."

"_Pretend?_" Hermione says with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes, we thought pretend was defined as 'show,'" George says.

Fred bobs his head and points at his twin. "Why, do we have the wrong word?"

Hermione stares at the two. "You know, I think I need to make up for being late to my last exam by being early to Transfiguration." She turns to everyone else at the table and bids them good-bye, and reassures a panicked Ron that she's just leaving early; he doesn't have to leave yet. She does not say good-bye to the twins.

As she's turning her back, Bill asks, "did she guess you two right by the backs of your heads?"

"Oh, that's right!" Ginny gasps. "You haven't gotten the lecture on how to tell the twins apart! Ron gave it to me after his first year…"

*\

Voldemort is back.

Voldemort killed Cedric Diggory.

Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter—_again_.

Voldemort is living, breathing, _killing_ again.

Hermione can only think of protecting as many people as she can. Every second these thoughts run through her head: _how can I keep my family safe? How can I keep my friends safe? How can I keep my school safe? _

The library gives her nothing. Even with Viktor helping her read through as many books as they can, there isn't a single thing she can do that Hogwarts hasn't done already. She's not sure why she thought there would be something that Dumbledore hasn't thought of, but she's let down by their lack of success nonetheless.

She's a target. She is, easily.

She's a muggleborn, she's Harry Potter's best friend, and she's helped chase Voldemort back in to hiding twice now.

She's a target, and seeing how carelessly Voldemort and his followers killed Cedric, she knows that that not only could that just as easily have been her, but also it could easily be anyone she's close to.

Her parents have no protection, and if Voldemort or his followers ever think of using bait, Hermione knows her parents would be a completely reasonable option to get to her. She'd be a completely reasonable option to get to Harry. How is she supposed to deal with these thoughts running through her head?

Around this time last year, Hermione had told Fred that Harry's battles were her battles because he was her friend. This isn't true anymore.

Harry's battles are now her battles because there's just at much at stake for Hermione as there is for Harry. It doesn't comfort her at all that she'd read about Death Eaters killing families of muggleborns to remove any traces of _impure_ magic lines. Beyond that, the Death Eaters killed muggles for fun, for bragging rights, for some twisted sense of pride.

Hermione has never thought of herself as a coward, but she's thought about taking her parents and fleeing to safety more than she cares to admit. It's just—well. She can't lose her parents.

In her next thought, she also acknowledges that she also can't lose Fred, or Harry, or Alicia, or—_any of her friends_.

It's overwhelming just to think about. At fifteen years old she is being thrust head first in to a war whose target is her and her closest friends.

So, her last week at Hogwarts is spent largely in the library with Viktor and her other friends researching. It's a good week despite her thoughts weighing her down, though it's also a reminder of how much is at stake every time she looks around her. In the end, she can confidently say that she's relieved to leave the school for the first time in her Hogwarts career.

* * *

_I'd like to thank everyone who is commenting/favoriting/following. That means so much to me. This started out as a fic that I wanted to write just because **I** wanted to read it. Seeing how many of y'all also enjoy reading it is incredible. _

_Also! I have a tumblr now! Also there at raquians. I'll post short lil previews, answer any questions about this verse/Fremione/Harry Potter in general, and so on and so forth. _

_Thank you all again! _


	5. don't give up (and don't let me)

_I'm sorry. Life has not been kind to me since the last chapter was posted. I'm no longer making promises about when chapters are coming out, but I am holding VERY true to my promise that this fic will not be abandoned. It WILL be completed, even if it takes longer than I had planned or anticipated. _

* * *

_**book v.**_

Hermione's hand shakes as she aims her wand at the backs of her parents. She takes a deep breath, steadying her hand. She fears mistakes, despite all of her planning and practice. She can't mess up this spell.

"_Mutatio Mente_," she whispers and watches as a soft, white wisp travels to her parents. Both of them go rigid, and she bites her lip. When they relax again, they carry on as though nothing had happened.

She swallows down a lump in her throat. "Excuse me?" she calls.

Both of them jump. Her mum turns to look at her first. "I'm so sorry, you startled us!"

"I'm terribly sorry," Hermione says and she means it. "I was sent up to help you gather your belongings and bring them to the cab."

"Oh, how nice!" her mum—_no_, Monica—smiles. "We don't have much, we can carry it by ourselves."

"Are you sure? I can grab something—"

"No, we're alright, thank you, dear," her father—no, Wendell—smiles.

"At least let me show you to your cab. They've had to park down the street a ways."

"That'd be wonderful."

She blinks back the tears she feels gathering and smiles.

She'd almost forgotten how much it hurt to fake a smile around her parents.

*\

Tom asks her where her parents have gone and she stumbles through a quick "oh, with all the worry going around they went home early. Is that alright?" It is fine, she supposes, since Tom has left her alone since that conversation, only speaking to her once more to wish her well while she's awaiting the Weasleys' arrival.

Molly, Fred, and George greet her at the fireplace early in the morning, only four days since she'd last seen them.

"'Mine!" Fred grins. Before she can process what's happening, she's being pulled into his chest for a tight hug.

"Let me _go_," she huffs, even while she hugs him back. After another moment, she starts laughing and pushing against him. Once he releases her, she turns to Molly.

"Hermione, it's lovely to see you!" Molly says, taking Hermione in her arms as well. "Where are your parents?"

"Oh, they had to go, they hoped you wouldn't mind—I have a letter from them," she says, offering the woman the parchment that she'd had her parents write before she'd modified their memories.

George lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin. Mum made me come but I've been terrified to face your parents ever since you sent those neckrotonic—"

"_Necrotic_," Hermione corrects.

"Even the word is scarier than I remember." He moves forward to hug her—completing the set.

She grins up at him. "Is the hug because you missed me or because my parents aren't here to talk with you and you're relieved?"

"Definitely the second. I saw you four days ago."

"George," Molly scolds. "Don't be rude."

"Wh—? I'm not!"

Hermione laughs. "It's okay, Mrs. Weas—"

"Molly, dear."

"—Molly. I know he was joking."

"Alright then," Molly says, but it's reluctant. Hermione thinks it's a bit like training a dog not to jump, and someone saying 'I don't mind!' Hermione is positive George wouldn't tease strangers in this way, however, so she doesn't feel guilty. "Do you have all your belongings, then?"

With her confirmation, Molly, waves the twins to collect Hermione's trunks, plus Crookshanks who hops to sit on Fred's shoulder. They both give her a salute as they step into the floo only to disappear in a burst of green flame. Molly urges Hermione to go next. In the blink of an eye she goes from staring at the interior of the Leaky Cauldron, to stumbling out of the flames into the familiar embrace of the youngest Weasley.

"Hermione!" Ginny yells excitedly in her ear.

Hermione laughs at the enthusiasm from her friend and returns the hug. "It's good to see you."

"You too!" Ginny says, just as Molly floos in. "Thought I'd have to spend another summer alone with these guys"—she motions over her back to the twins and Ron—"_plus_ Bill is moving back home."

"Oh? Why? Curse-breaking isn't any fun anymore?"

Ron pops up next to Ginny's elbow and presses his lips together as he waves at Hermione. "We've no idea why he's back," Ron admits. "He's taken a job at Gringott's."

Ginny nods along with Ron's words. "All I can say is that I'm thankful I'll have you around."

"Oh, goodness, I am, as well," Molly says, stepping out from behind Hermione. She ushers every one further into the house so they no longer surround the fireplace. "We're nearly back to a full house, Ginny and I always appreciate having another woman around."

"Meanwhile, we're living with the three women who scare us most in the world," Fred cuts in. Crookshanks is no longer on his shoulder, but instead in his arms, purring loudly and pressing his face into Fred's hand.

"Granted only _one_ of them can use magic outside of Hogwarts," George winks.

"Yet you'll be spending the entire year at Hogwarts with the other two," Ginny says. Her voice is sweet and she's smiling, but Hermione reads her threat just as easily as the twins do. "And we _can_ perform magic there."

Fred and George's smiles both fall, and Hermione tosses her head back to laugh. Her chest swells. For the first time since she'd decided to modify her parents' memories, she doesn't feel the impossible weight of it. It still hurts—she still feels the clench in her stomach and the ache in her heart.

She's sent her family away. She's made her parents forget her existence, forget the entire fifteen years of her life—the one that they were so, so present in. There's an emptiness left in their absence—it echoes in her head, in her chest. She knows it can't be filled.

She wonders if there are any echoes in her parents' minds as well. Can they sense that their family is lacking—that what is supposed to be three is now only two? When they go to a bookstore, will they pick up a book with a witch and forget for a moment that magic isn't supposed to be real? Will they feel compelled to buy it, even though they don't have her to question about its accuracy? When they make waffles, will they add chocolate chips and make far too many of them only to wonder how they could have made such a simple mistake? Will _Sweet Child of Mine_ sound wrong? Will they stumble over the lyrics and wonder why?

Will she still have a presence in their life, even without their memory of her?

She shakes her head and brings her mind back. Back to the Burrow, back to the Weasleys, back to—

Fred.

The emptiness can't be filled. She's not wrong about that.

She thinks she might be wrong about sending her family away, however.

There's noise and motion around her—the collection of Weasleys surrounding her bicker away, ignorant to the internal battle she's fighting. All except Fred, who has his eye fixed on her from his place next to the dining room table. He quirks an eyebrow at her. She smiles at him, and then looks to the others. There's pain, of course there is, but it isn't all consuming.

Her parents were not her only family.

*\

Fred barely spares his mother a glance before he's storming out the door to follow Percy and Arthur.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, Hermione," Molly says, her voice shaky.

Hermione shakes her head. "No, don't apologize—I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for at all. My son and husband were out of line to be arguing in front of a guest—"

"Really, Mrs. Wealsey, it's fine. I've seen my fair share of family rows. Enough to know that they all pass eventually."

Molly doesn't even correct her for using 'Mrs. Weasley.' She smiles at Hermione instead. It's not a real smile, but it's more than Hermione was expecting. "Thank you, dear. I'm going to finish lunch up if you don't mind." She hurries from then, leaving everyone to stare after her.

The door slams open and Fred enters, heading straight for the stairs. He doesn't turn to close the door or acknowledge Hermione or his siblings. Hermione watches until he disappears onto the second flight, and then turns to the other Weasleys. George looks wildly uncomfortable, torn between following his twin or remaining with his younger siblings. Hermione nudges him, taking the decision out of his hands. "Can you go make sure he's alright?"

George nods, and within a matter of seconds has disappeared up the steps.

Hermione stands up and crosses the room to close the door. "Are you alright?" she asks Ginny first.

The youngest Weasley shrugs. "I suppose. It's not really a massive surprise, you know?"

"Ron?" Hermione asks.

"He's been a prat my entire life, dunno why it's taken Mum and Dad so long to realize."

It's quiet after that. The siblings continue their silent match of chess. Ron doesn't even gloat when he wins twice in a row. Neither of them notice her fidgeting, looking for any escape she can. It'd gone from screaming to absolute silence and Hermione's mind can't shut off like that apparently, because her skin is crawling now.

After Ron's third victory, she can't take it anymore—she doesn't have anything to entertain her and even if she did, she's not sure it could keep her mind off of the silence. "I should probably go see if he needs something…"

Ron frowns. He picks up his king, pressing his fingers into the indentations of the crown, barely sparing Hermione a glance. "He's just pissed at Percy, needs some time to cool down."

"He takes everything so personally," Hermione mumbles, staring up the stairs where he disappeared. "Every crime is a crime against him."

"He's bloody dramatic is what it is," Ron grumbles.

She shakes her head. "No, that's not it. Well, not entirely. He… well, he cares more than anyone I've ever seen, and so when something he doesn't like happens—"

"He cares _more?_" Finally Ron looks at her as he laughs. "He couldn't care _less_, 'Mione, and you're kidding yourself if you believe otherwise."

"Just because you show your care differently doesn't mean he doesn't care," Hermione snaps, losing control of her words. "Merlin, Ron, do you know anything about your brothers?"

"I know more than you, clearly."

Her eyes narrow. She hears a squeak from Ginny who scoots to the edge of her seat, ready to intervene at any point. "Oh, I highly doubt that, Ronald."

Ron narrows his eyes right back. "What, you think you know my family so well?"

"Fred, George, you, and Ginny, at least."

"Oh, and you think you know Fred and George just because you're friends with them? Your friendship is built on having the same friends as them, Hermione, that doesn't mean much, especially not to them."

"Oh, bloody—I didn't meet them through Alicia! I met _Alicia_ through the _twins!_ We've been friends longer than you and I. We write more to each other over a single break than you and I ever have. The—Merlin, Ron, it's not a bloody joke of him being the only one who calls me ''Mine.' I thought you finally understood our friendship. I _am_ his—his best friend. And he is mine. And _yes_, he can be brash, and _yes_, he can be cruel, but he has never not cared."

Ron blinks at her. After a moment, his eyes are once again narrow, staring at her, accusation clear. "Why would you be friends with the _twins?_ You're nothing like them! Matter of fact, why would they be friends with you? They hate know-it—"

"Oh, don't you even finish that sentence. They're friends with me because they _like_ me, an idea that you still seem to struggle with. I'm friends with them because they cared about me—_before_ they insulted me and almost got me killed by a troll, unlike two other people I know," she spits.

"That's hardly fair, Hermione. We didn't send the troll after you! And you have to agree you were _awful_."

"Not according to them I wasn't. They were the only ones on my side from the start. What does that say—"

"'Mione," George's voice buzzes behind her. She whips around. He's watching her with careful eyes like he always does when she's upset. "It's okay. We're used to this git being… being a git. You don't need to defend us."

"He's a bloody arsehole," Hermione snarls, still in her defensive mindset, as well as brimming with anger. She'll have to apologize later, but right now, she doesn't regret it.

"Yeah, he is," George chuckles, "but not all the time, and he doesn't mean to be. Go up and see Freddie, he'll be glad for it." He gives her a smirk, and she feels the anger easing from her body at the thought of Fred upstairs.

"Thank you," she whispers and then rushes up the steps. She barely pauses outside the twins' door, just pushes through until she can see him.

Seeing Fred calms her as much as she seems to calm him.

When she enters the room he turns on the couch and, upon seeing her, offers a small, sad smile, one that she returns. The anger she'd felt only moments before dissipates as soon as he raises a hand up—reaching for her all the way across the room.

She goes to him. Curls into his side and grabs his hand and tells him something like "I'm sorry." Something like "it'll be okay." Something like "this sucks."

It's silent up here, much like it was downstairs with Ron and Ginny, but she's comfortable. She doesn't feel antsy, doesn't feel anxious, doesn't feel trapped. The silence isn't loud when she's next to Fred.

"'Mine," Fred whispers several minutes later. Hermione uncurls herself from his side and looks up at him. His eyes find hers immediately and there's a question in them. Something that Hermione isn't sure how to answer—it seems like he's asking for nothing and everything all at once. His eyes flick down to her lips, and then her eyes again, and her breath catches in her throat. She gives a small nod, and Fred doesn't hesitate a moment longer.

Kissing Fred is nothing like she imagined. After they pass the initial hesitation of wondering whether the other is going to pull away in regret or not, it's all… completely fitting. It's not cautious or learned, and it sure as hell isn't timid. It's something that sparks with life and is intrinsic. Like they were always, always meant to come to this point, and now that they've made it, it's welcoming them home.

Because, well, that's what Fred is. Home.

It's easy to see if she looks back: how Fred's letters always made her feel settled in the summer in a way no one else's could—or how Hogwarts could feel lonely when they had missed each other a few days in a row—or how this overcrowded, hastily put together house (though she loved it) felt so much better than her bright, pristine parents' house had been.

So she kisses him, and she doesn't hold back.

The nice thing is, Fred clearly isn't holding back, either. He twisted his body initially to face her, but it's causing him to hunch over. He solves this by pulling away and settling back on the couch before hoisting her on to his lap. She goes easily and laughs and his mirthful chortle joins the sounds of her own. That's when he cards his fingers through her curls and lays his other hand on the small of her back and pulls her in, smiling all the while.

It's hard to kiss when you're smiling and laughing, she learns very quickly. Still, she has a feeling many of her future kisses will involve one of the two. Right now, however, she works to sober herself up so they can kiss properly, without their teeth clacking together and without the need to come up for air every three or four seconds. Fred takes care of it. With the hand that's slipped in her curls, he grips gently and guides her head to a better angle, making her gasp. His humor is short-lived after that, and soon they're pressing into each other, tilting their heads to try to deepen the kiss further because this isn't enough, they need more, they _crave_ more and—

"Oh bloody finally," George mutters as he walks over to his bed.

Hermione jumps in surprise and shoves herself back from Fred. This means, because she'd been on his lap, toppling over his knees and on to the ground in front of him. She sees him looking down at her with a shocked look on his face, like he couldn't quite believe that she had just done that. Truthfully, she couldn't believe she had either. She feels her face go up in flames and hides her face against the side of his knee. "Oh my god," she whines.

The knee she's hidden behind starts shaking, and she hears Fred laughing above her. "Your _face_, 'Mines, my god, that was brilliant."

She lifts her head and glares. "I'm glad you think so."

"I'm glad, too," he replies cheekily. Her eyes get narrower. "Oh, c'mon, love," he mollifies, reaching down a hand to close around her wrist and help drag her back on to the couch, "all of us have to have a moment like that at some point in our lives. It's only fair."

"Really, 'Mione," George adds, "you've seen us fall on our arses how many times? This was nothing compared to the time we added shrivelfig to our Giggling Gum recipe before turning the heat down and it exploded on us."

Hermione smiles at the memory. Fred curls a hand around her jaw and taps the upturned edge of her lip with a thumb. He grins down at her. "And as brilliant as that face was, I like this smile much more."

George makes a retching sound. He heaves himself off the bed and to the door. "That's enough of that for today, I'm going to sit with Ginny, away from… this."

"Wait!" Hermione yells before George can reach the door. He freezes and stares at her, confused. She bites her lip and looks at Fred. "Can you—could you not tell anyone about this?"

Fred tenses next to her. "'Mine…"

"No, not—it's nothing _bad_. I just worry that if your mum hears we wouldn't… I don't know, Fred. Nevermind."

"Cor blimey, Freddie," George blurts, "you've corrupted her good. She wants to be able to sneak off and have her way with you."

"No!" Hermione cries. "It was—it was just an idea, okay?"

Fred smirks from beside her. "An idea to sneak off and have your way with m—"

She crosses her arms. "I'm sorry I suggested it, tell everyone, George."

"No, no," Fred shakes his head, smile growing ever wider. "Tell _no one_."

George's eyes brows are high on his forehead as he says, "got it." There's a pause and then: "And Ron's all taken care of, 'Mione. Just give him some time." He makes his exit after that.

Fred's smile drops when the door clicks shut. "Ron?"

Hermione flaps a hand in dismissal. "It's nothing."

"No, 'Mine, c'mon. What is it?"

She sighs. "He just—I said I wanted to see if you needed anything earlier, and it led to an argument."

"How?"

She recounts all that happened, all that was said. He listens intently, unwilling to let himself miss a word that comes from her mouth. When she's done recounting the facts, everything else comes pouring out of her. "And, it just hurt, all over again, hearing how awful I supposedly was because I don't think I've changed all that much. I've grown, yes, and I've taken a lot of risks that maybe I wouldn't have my first month at Hogwarts, but beyond that? I'm still the _know-it-all_ that I was coming in to school. And I still _like_ knowing it all and the feeling I get when I get an answer right. I still _like_ rules and order and following them. And, oh, how _bold_ he was for suggesting that you would never be friends with me because I happen to like rules and order and school! I'm friends with him and Harry, aren't I? We do more rule-breaking in one night than you and George get up to in a term! We're just much less flamboyant than you two about it. So why would _they_ be friends with me, then?

"At least you and George like learning, albeit not the traditional structured learning that we have in classes—Harry and Ron are happy to go through life clueless in any academia. If I ignore the rule-breaking, since we've already been over that, doesn't that make me more likely to befriend you? We at least share an interest in knowledge! Does that mean the troll is _really_ the _only_ reason I'm friends with them? And I was only friends with Ronald because of Harry until our third year! What did he mean then, 'that doesn't mean much' if you've only become friends because of mutual friends? What if he still doesn't even consider me a friend?

"And hearing how _little_ he knows about you! I can't help but think of how utterly underappreciated you and George are in this house, like Ron's just following your mum and thinking that you don't care about anything. And—well, I know he doesn't actually believe that. Not fully, anyway. It's as if he heard that _I_ knew something about you and just had to _fight_ it. Merlin forbid I recognize that you'd do anything for your family, or work hard for your joke shop, or defend your friends! I mean _really_, saying that you couldn't care less when you live your life so bloody passionately and full of—"

Fred lunges forward, connecting their lips with an ease that Hermione thinks probably shouldn't exist when they only just kissed for the first time a few minutes ago. Hermione spends half a second being mad that he cut her off before sinking in to the kiss. When he pulls away, she chases after him. He laughs while he reaches up to hold her face in a calloused hand. "I love you."

Fred's thumb traces the soft skin beneath her eye and Hermione goes rigid. She wants to ask him to repeat himself but she knows she heard him perfectly fine, and that if she asks him to repeat it, she'll hear it perfectly fine again. And she still won't know what to do.

It's not that she's stunned he could say it to her, or that she thinks he should not have. And it's not that she doesn't love him either because, oh, Merlin, does she adore him as he leans over to give her a sweet kiss and reassure her, "'Mine, stop looking so scared. It was something _I_ wanted to say, and you don't have to say anything at all."

So, it's not that she doesn't love him, she doesn't think. It's that she's young, and she's just lost her parents, and this isn't how she expected her day to go.

She thinks she could probably tell him that she loves him. She knows it won't be long before she does.

*\

Over the next few days, they are hyper-focused on one another—they want to learn everything they don't know about each other and figure out their relationship. Ron is avoiding Hermione for the time being, so it's not hard to find time together. George and Ginny (who didn't need to be told, but was able to guess the next time she saw the two together) typically will cover for them—fooling their mum into thinking that Fred is joining them for some flying out by the pond, out of sight of the Burrow, or sometimes locking themselves in Ginny's room while she reads and George experiments. Molly never questions them, too busy packing for wherever they're going, and Ron doesn't seem to have a clue either.

The day after they've first kissed, Fred breaks away in the middle of another. "Alright," he says, breathing heavily. "I've got to know now. Just how far did you get with Krum?"

"Fred!"

"You're way too bloody good at snogging to not have snuck into some secret passageways with him, 'Mine."

"I did no such thing!"

"The secret passageways or the snogging?"

Hermione's face burns red. "We—not much. We kissed once," she tells him, recalling a time where she had been with him in the library during their last week at Hogwarts. When he had to return to the boat, he'd bid her goodbye and brushed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Barely. Not like this."

Fred looks down at their bodies. "Oh? He never pinned you down to a bed and snogged you senseless?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "As a matter of fact, he never did."

"Well, that's good to know," he grins devilishly.

"And just how far did you get with your conquests?"

Fred scoffs. "When I was fourteen? Because after that I was hopelessly pining after you, it was pathetic really. I got maybe a snog or two in down a secret passageway, but beyond that… not very."

Hermione grins. She brings her hands up and loops them around the back of his neck, drawing his face down to hers. "Well, that's good to know."

*\

Hermione is the next to pull away suddenly, two days later, startled by a tattooing on the window. She looks over and finds Angelina's owl, Clement, pecking on the glass. She throws herself off the couch situated against the twins' wall and hurries to unlock the window for the bird. She greets him fondly, then grabs some treats from where Fred and George keep them. She feeds the bird, thanking him when he allows her to untie three letters from his foot. One is addressed to Hermione, one to Fred, and one to George. She sets George's aside, hands Fred his, and opens hers.

Though they just saw each other ten days ago, Angelina has managed to write quite a bit. It's mostly about her father's worry about You-Know-Who's return ("_thank Merlin he trusts my choice in friends. The Ministry is already making a joke about it in the Prophet, can you believe that?_"), her Muggle cousins pestering her about her 'boarding school' ("_Mum tells me that there's no reason for them to know about our magic and that they'll just keep passing it down to their kids until it spreads out to the Muggle world through carelessness. I probably wouldn't mind so much if she didn't tell them that I was taking 'advanced chemistry', whatever that is, just because it's the closest Muggle class there is to N.E.W.T. Potions._"), and Lee's latest pursuits ("_he sent me a box of Hiccoughing Sweets, Hermione. I don't know if the boy is TRYING to drive me away or just doing a good job of it._").

_George wrote and said you arrived at the Burrow already. I hope everything is well at home and you just decided for a summer with your friends. Don't hesitate to let me know if you need to talk, I'm only one owl away. _

_ With love, _

_ Angelina _

_ P.S. Keep me updated on the Viktor events!_

Hermione freezes when she reads the postscript.

She looks to Fred, who had finished reading his letter earlier than she had. A glance at the parchment tells her that his letter was much shorter than hers. He seems to have been watching her read with a smile on his face, and she has to fight down a blush at the realization. It's easy to push it out of her mind again, however, when she asks, "what are we going to tell the others?"

Fred's eyebrows knit together. "We could keep quiet from them, too," he suggests.

"But what would we have to gain from that? They're not—"

"We gain the thrill of a _forbidden romance_," he says, gliding his hand through the air in front of their faces as he says 'forbidden romance.' His face is bright when he looks at her again. "C'mon, 'Mine, doesn't a secret relationship sound fun? Sneaking around the castle, using your prefect privilege—"

"I'm not a prefect—"

"Not _yet_. And that's only because they haven't sent out the letters yet."

"Even if I am selected as a prefect, that's no reason not to tell our friends, is it?"

Fred considers. "I guess not, no."

"I don't want to tell everyone. Maybe not even Harry or Ron, and most certainly not the entire school—not yet. I get enough looks for being your friend, I'm not going to deal with Lavender and Parvati's incessant questions about whether you're a good kisser or not."

"But 'Mine, I want everyone to know that I'm a _great_ kisser," he says, tangling their fingers together.

Hermione looks at their joined hands and then back up to his face. His lower lip is jutting out and she rolls her eyes. "Who says I'd give you such a raving review? What if you're terrible?"

"Then I question why you've spent half your days this past week with me, doing such a _terrible_ job."

"I like you well enough, now I just have to get your snogging up to standard."

"Oh?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow as he crowds into her space. "Who sets the standard?"

"Colin Justice."

"Memorable bloke?"

"First kiss." She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down as she reclines back against the armrest of the couch. "We've still got plenty of time to practice."

"Oh, thank Merlin for that," Fred says, "no hope otherwise."

*\

They're curled up in his bed a few days later, their first real time alone since they had received Angelina's letters when she wonders, "when did you know?"

"Know?" Fred asks.

"That you—or. About how you felt?"

Fred hums, tightens his arms around her. "I reckon I always knew on some level. George and Lee would tease me about my crush on you ever since your first year, but we were young and I didn't understand my feelings. I was old enough to know about crushes and attraction, but I'm not sure I ever had a crush on you. I knew I liked being around you, and that I felt differently about you than Alicia, Ange, and Katie. That was about it. You were my best friend, and I was happy with that.

"I knew for sure it wasn't… platonic, I guess, after you were petrified." He pauses. His hand that's on her hip tightens, like he's grasping on to the shadow of a memory—or perhaps clinging to the present, to remind himself that her petrification is over and that she is here with him. "George and I went to see you before Pomfrey banned anyone from visiting and when I saw you—I felt everything. Not just… I don't suppose it was love then, or at least not like now. But it wasn't just a _crush_. I felt angry and hurt and bloody _terrified_. It's how I am with my family, but I couldn't put you and Ginny in the same category. After that, I knew how I felt. I spent every single one of those days you were in the infirmary scared and angry. And then last few weeks of term, when you were better, every day just reminded me of how I felt, waking up and seeing you smiling and alive and upset about the exams being cancelled.

"It grew a lot that summer. By the time we met you in the Leaky Cauldron, I was so strung out that I couldn't focus on anything and I was driving George mad. He understood, I think. What with you having just been petrified, I didn't like having you out of my sight for nearly two months. We couldn't even write to one another, and I got worried. So when I saw you… I knew whatever I felt wasn't going away any time soon. Maybe that's not when I knew, but it was when I accepted it."

He falls silent after that, and Hermione isn't sure what to say. She plays with his fingers and traces hers over his palm, thinking on what he'd just said. It's quiet for a few minutes until, "your turn, Granger. When did you know you fancied me?"

"It was right around when Viktor asked me to the ball," she says.

"What?"

"Yeah, it was poor timing. It wasn't until after he asked me, and I don't even remember what made me realize but when I did, everything I'd felt made _so_ much sense. Then I remember being—well, jealous, I guess. When you asked Ange."

Fred turns his hand over and grips hers. "I wanted to ask you."

Hermione leans up and skims her lips over his cheek. "I would've said yes. But it might have been for the better. I suppose I'm like you in that my feelings have always been different but I never knew what they meant or acknowledged them. I might've thought we were going as friends."

"We figured it out."

"Yeah," she says. "We've got a lot more to figure out, but at least we've made it this far."

*\

Ron still hasn't apologized. Hermione hasn't either, but she's going to. She will, once Ron does. There's a good chance that Ron is going to suddenly start talking to her again, ignoring their argument entirely, and Hermione is prepared to move on from it just like that. She brings it up with Ginny as they help Molly with dinner, while Ron and the twins are out flying.

"Oh, don't worry dear," Molly joins their conversation with a laugh, "Ronald is just jealous, you know. He'll get over it plenty soon."

"_Jealous?_" Hermione asks, just as skeptical as she was when Angelina had said it.

Molly gives her a look, and Hermione feels like she's missed something obvious. "Of course. A mother always knows the way her children feel."

"Ron doesn't like me, Mrs. Weasl—"

"Molly, dear."

"—Molly."

"Oh, of course he does. Must be hard on him, really—seeing you with Viktor and now learning how close you are with his brothers, thinking they'll steal your time and attention away from him."

"That doesn't give him the right to treat her like this," Ginny tells Molly, echoing exactly what Fred had said at the Yule Ball. "She's friends with Harry and I and he's not upset about that, or any of her other friends."

Molly waves a hand, dismissing her. "He'll get over it soon. Jealousy is a very complex emotion, you don't always have control over it even if it's irrational."

Hermione worries that Molly thinks Ron's jealousy is irrational because there's no way that Hermione would be romantically involved with Fred or George. She's actually almost positive that's the woman's thought process, as she seems to have no explanation as to why he's only jealous of his twin brothers.

One day, she thinks, Fred and her are going to sit down to have a very awkward conversation with Molly.

*\

The conversation does make her think, however.

"Were you jealous of Viktor, Fred?"

They're in Fred and George's room—though Hermione is meant to be out keeping Ginny company while she flies, and Fred is meant to be in Diagon Alley with George. At least as far as Molly, Arthur, and Ron know.

He breathes a laugh. "Unbelievably," he says. "Why?"

"You never—you were happy for me, though."

"Happy _for_ you. I wasn't… I otherwise wasn't happy with the situation. But seeing you smiling and laughing and being treated how you should be—I could never be upset about that."

Hermione stares at him. Well, that answers that.

He smiles. "What?"

"I love you."

His smiles drops. "What?"

"I love you."

"But—you…"

Hermione shakes her head. "I don't know a lot about romantic relationships, I really don't know much about love. But I'm also not clueless. Love isn't finite, either. There's never going to be a point where I reach the limit of how much I love you. I just know that I _do_ love you, even if it's not as much as I will love you tomorrow. Even if it's different than how you love me."

Fred beams at her, and their conversation ends there.

*\

Twelve days after Hermione arrived at the Burrow, ten days after she and Fred first kissed, they're packing up and relocating to Sirius' place, which Molly and Arthur also mention is the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Because of that, there are a lot of hoops to jump through just to get in the front door. When they do get in the home, Remus is there to greet them. When everyone has said hi, Remus turns away.

"Padfoot!" he yells down the entry hallway. "Stop stuffing your face and come help with the luggage."

Behind Hermione, there are two wheezing noises. She turns around and sees Fred and George staring at Remus, wide-eyed, jaws nearly dropped open. "I'm sorry," Fred says, "what did you just call him?"

Remus looks at the twins and furrows his eyebrows together. He opens his mouth, but just as he does, Sirius comes stumbling in to the hall. "Right! Sorry, breakfast—most important meal of the day and all that, innit? Hello, Weasleys and Granger! Welcome to my humble abode! Pay no mind to the screaming portrait down the hall, can't quite get her to shut up. Moony's tried just about everything."

George wheezes again and Fred covers his gasp up with a cough. Their eyes flick to their mum and then back to Remus. "We'd like to speak with you later, if you don't mind. Just—questions. About Hogwarts, you know," Fred says.

George looks at his mum, looking genuinely flustered. "And no worries, mum," he picks up his trunk and walks off down the hall and is followed quickly by Fred, calling behind him, "he was a teacher, remember! He won't corrupt us any further and we clearly won't corrupt him!"

Molly stares after them. "Those _two…_ I swear…" Her eyes shift to Remus. "They give you any trouble, let me know right away."

"Of course, Molly," Remus says.

Sirius nods along. "Now, let's get all of you sorted and put into rooms, shall we?"

Hermione wonders how long it will take Fred and George, who are already put of sight, to realize they have no idea where they're going.

*\

Fred and George are bent together, whispering furiously when Hermione and Ginny find them almost an hour later. When they notice the two girls, their mouths snap shut.

Ginny narrows her eyes. "What's with you two?"

"The map!" Fred whisper-shouts. "The names on the map! _Moony_, Wormtail, _Padfoot_, and Prongs!"

Hermione grimaces. "I—well. I guess I didn't tell you everything that happened when we confronted Pettigrew?"

Both the twins drop their jaws. "How _could_ you?" George demands.

"It seemed like such an insignificant detail to me!" Hermione defends.

"I'm breaking up with you," Fred says, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione looks at him and raises an eyebrow. He stares back.

"Okay," she says.

"Fine, you caught me, I'm not breaking up with you," Fred says. "I'm just going to be very disappointed that you failed to tell me that _Professor Lupin_ was one of the Marauders."

"Harry's dad and godfather are two of the others!" George yells under his breath.

"Yes, and the man who got Harry's parents killed is the other," Hermione reminds them.

Fred and George grimace. "We don't like him," George says.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"The _Map_, 'Mine! How much skill and brains do you think that took? And we were taught by one of the creators!"

Hermione shakes her head at the two of them and sighs. "I suppose it's no use to point out that since Remus was once a Marauder you two wouldn't happen to suddenly have aspirations to be a professor?"

Fred rolls his eyes. "You suppose correctly. We _will_ however take after his studiousness. Have you seen the library yet?"

"No." She straightens up. She hadn't been told there is a library. "But if you'll excuse me—"

"We were just on our way, too," Fred tells her.

"You two go ahead," George says. "I need to write Ange back before Clement comes back from his hunt."

Hermione nods, then looks to Ginny. Ginny shakes her head. "I'm going to explore. I'll meet you there in a bit?"

"Of course," Hermione says.

"I don't want to walk in on you two snogging when I get there," Ginny tells them with a stern voice when they start to the door.

Fred huffs and looks back at her. "We're going to a new library that 'Mine has never been in before. D'you really think I'd be able to keep her attention?"

He does keep her attention, but not by snogging her.

They're sat next to each other on a dusty couch, three books spread out in front of them. There's a book full of house-elf lore—mainly the history of the creatures as told by rich, pure-blood families. There's another, one that details house-elves in a strictly factual way—their biology, their magical abilities. The final one is a book called _House Elves and Self-Hatred_.

They've started discussions about bringing up vacation days to the elves at Hogwarts. Hermione is skeptical about how it might go at first, but they all like her well enough at this point to hear her out without feeling as though they're betraying Dumbledore. Even more of them like Fred, so she's hopeful they'll be able to get through to some of them, and that the rest might follow suit.

They're deep in conversation, with Fred's arm around her and their sides pressed together, when Fred's hand disappears from her back suddenly. She's about to ask him why but—

"Hermione?"

Hermione looks up. Ron is standing in front of her, wringing his hands together. "Yes?"

He is looking everywhere but her. "I'm sorry. George and Ginny pointed out how what I said wasn't quite right—you've never been awful. And you're not a know-it-all."

Fred snorts. Hermione turns to glare at him. She's pretty sure this is the first time Ron is genuinely apologizing, and their argument was half her fault. She won't let Fred's ridicule scare him off apologies again. She starts to reprimand him but he shakes his head. "I'm not laughing at Ron," he says. Ron's face is going red. "I'm laughing that he just said that you're _not_ a know-it-all."

"Oh—come off it," Hermione rolls her eyes.

He shakes his head and looks at his youngest brother. "Mate, she definitely knows-it-all and is proud of that. We just don't call it that because it's got some bad connotation. We call her Library o'Mione or Professor. There are some other variations depending on what we're talking about, but those two are used quite a bit."

Oh.

She thinks Fred telling this to Ron is his way of trying to include him.

_Thinks_.

(Hopes.)

She's skeptical still, but she's fairly certain that's what's happening.

Ron's eyebrows furrow together. "Library o'Mione?"

Fred grins. "Her mum and dad call her 'Daughter o'Mione' so we took advantage of that. You've probably heard us call her other things like 'friend o'Mione.' Lee's favorite it ''Mione o'Mione.'"

"You can make any version of it you want—there are a few rules though," Fred explains, and then launches into a detailed explanation of said rules. Hermione is genuinely impressed he's able to recount them so fluently. "When she says not to use 'sweet child,' she means it. Remember the day Lee's hair went Slytherin green your second year? He tried."

"He regretted it," Hermione grins, though her stomach still feels heavy from the unexpected mention of her parents.

Ron blinks. "_You_ turned Lee's hair green?"

"Yes," she shrugs. "I tried green and silver but I couldn't figure out the spell to do both at the same time, it just kept turning fully green or fully silver on me. Green was more obvious."

"Harry and I didn't dare mention it around you because we thought you'd go on about useless pranks!"

"It wasn't a useless prank," Hermione says. "It was very helpful in keeping him from using a name that I had asked him not to call me."

Ron narrows his eyes. "It was still a prank."

"Retribution, I'd say," she shrugs.

"Retribution in the form of a prank," Fred grins. "She threatens pranks on us far too often. We've been an influence. I would say a _good_ influence, but I'd also hate to be on the receiving end of one of her pranks. And in no world could I be a bad influence."

Hermione snorts. "Oh, no, _never_."

"_You're_ scared of _Hermione's_ pranks?" Ron asks, seemingly unable to link Hermione and pranks together. She wonders how much of a wet blanket Ron really thinks she is.

Fred snorts. "You know how smart 'Mine is. When she takes the time to think of pranks or help George and I, she doesn't lose any of that brilliance. She uses it."

Ron nods, though his face is still confused. "What're you two planning with those, then?"

"Not _planning_, exactly, but we've been looking into proposing new house-elf regulations and laws," Fred tells him.

"They're slaves right now," Hermione explains, "and they've been raised and conditioned like… I would say like dogs, but dog owners treat their dogs loads better than house-elves are treated."

Ron furrows his eyebrows and takes a seat, and they spend the next few hours discussing house-elves, Extendable Ears, and pranks ("not pranks") that Hermione has pulled that Ron hasn't realized. At some point, Ron starts to smile and laugh along with them and—_yes_, she thinks. She's happy with this.

*\

"How did it go with Ron, then?" Ginny asks later that night.

Hermione smiles. "Surprisingly, really well."

"Did you guys tell him about—"

"No. Not yet. We actually talked about it a little bit after he left, but what if your mum is right?" Hermione asks. "What if he _is_ somehow jealous and telling him ruins our friendship?" Tonight had been so wonderful and had felt entirely like a breakthrough for them. She didn't want to throw it away so quickly.

"If that's the case I don't think _waiting_ to tell him will help. It will just hurt him more," Ginny says. Hermione frowns, but considers her friend's point. "Listen, I think Mum is right. Growing up with six siblings, it's easy to start to see things as _ours_, even humans. I'm sure that's not a surprise to you considering Fred's nickname for you. I think over time Ron has started to see you as _his_. Whether he fancies you or not, I'm not sure, but you are _his_ friend. It's an adjustment for him now to realize he has to share with his siblings _again_, as opposed to when he thought you were only friends with the girls."

"He's never been upset about you."

Ginny climbs into her bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin and kicking her legs so she can poke her feet out. Hermione climbs into her own bed, slipping under the blankets without the extra hassle. "It's different with me. We were the youngest so we shared all of our things, and then _I_ got the hand-me-downs after him. And he always felt a little bad about that because I hated them so much, so he'd start putting shirts that I liked into the pile for Mum to modify, even if he hadn't grown out of them yet. Fred and George… Ron was always left wanting what they had, not the other way around."

"What if telling him ruins our friendship?"

"I don't think it will, and I don't think you do, either," Ginny says. "He might throw a fit, but he'll get over it. At least if you tell him now he won't feel like you've been laughing behind his back."

Hermione frowns. "We haven't been!"

"I know, 'Mione."

"I don't even know what we'd say to him," she admits. "It's all so… new. We haven't really talked about _what_ it is or how it's going to work."

"I understand that. But I think you should consider telling him sooner rather than later, yeah?"

Hermione nods. "Yeah."

*\

The next two weeks are filled with clean up. Fred and George take their Apparition test the last Friday in July and pass with no issues, which… Hermione thinks she could have done with them failing, if she's being honest. It's become their preferred method of transportation, and she's not quite used to neither the sudden appearances nor the loud cracks. Still, they're plenty proud of themselves, so she celebrates with them anyways.

She hears about Harry's encounter with the dementors Tuesday morning. Each and every one of her Weasley sibling friends have to take turns to make sure she doesn't fall into a full blown panic attack—both for the belated fear that something _could have_ happened to Harry, and also for the current fear that something _could still_ happen to him.

Harry arrives by the end of the week. There's an entire plan in place in the hopes of preventing his expulsion from Hogwarts, so Hermione does her best to relax. She trusts the adults.

It shouldn't be any surprise that it's harder to get any alone time with Fred now that Harry is here, but it's still upsetting. Ginny is still hinting that Hermione should tell the two boys, but Hermione… she just wants the freedom of being with Fred without feeling guilty for a while longer. So, the remainder of her summer is filled with Harry and Ron and Ginny, and sometimes the twins too, but very little snogging.

Harry's not suspended.

That in itself allows her to breathe easier, but when the letter arrives announcing her as a prefect, a new kind of anxiety forms. There's a bit of clamor when Ron is named the other prefect rather than Harry, and a little bit of hurt when Molly essentially writes off Fred and George. Hermione supposes it's nice that Fred and George are at least trying to be supportive of Ron. They tease him, but in the end congratulate him, before they disappear with a _crack!_ yet again.

Later that night, after the party, Ron and Harry have gone to sleep and Hermione is staring at the badge in her hand. She frowns. "It's not that this is unexpected. It's just—it's _real_ now, and what if I'm no good at it?"

"You'll be great, Hermione," Ginny says.

"We won't even ask you to let us get away with pranking," George adds.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Just don't tell me directly about any of the more dangerous ones. Don't do anything stupid, either. I'd dock points just because it might be the only thing to get you two to care about your safety."

George grins. "Sure."

"I already told you I knew you'd be prefect," Fred says with a wink, "so I've been preparing how to outwit you all summer. We have even less to worry about with Ron—our only concern was that Harry has the Map."

Hermione rolls her eyes but ignores Fred's statement in favor of staring at the badge a little longer.

When she goes to bed, she hesitates only a moment before slips the badge under her pillow.

*\

They're getting looks from all over the Great Hall.

It's not their fault, not really. It's just—

"That's the _seventh_ one in a row!" George hisses. It's still loud enough that students from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables look at him. That doesn't matter much, as his outraged cry of "no!" only moments earlier had attracted attention from most everywhere else.

"_George,_" Hermione mutters, giving him a swift kick to the shin, "_shut up_."

"But _'Mione_—"

"_McGonagall_," Hermione mouths, flicking her eyes to the Deputy Headmistress. She is standing next to the stool, holding the Sorting Hat, and glaring in their direction. George follows Hermione's eyes and whines low in his throat, sinking down in his seat.

The final first year is walking up to be sorted, and Fred smirks at Hermione and George both. "Hufflepuff."

"Wait, that's hardly fair," Hermione says, her voice low. "George and I barely got to see her, we didn't even get a guess—"

"_HUFFLEPUFF!_"

"No," Hermione says firmly. "_No_, you cheated, you—don't _touch that trophy!_"

"I won, 'Mine, it's rightfully mine."

"No, _I'm_ yours, _that's_ mine."

Her words seem to stun Fred—he's left stuttering and gripping the trophy closer to his chest as Dumbledore starts speaking. When he turns to the front of the room to look at their Headmaster, Hermione sees that his ears are tinged red. She can't help the feeling of pride that grows in her chest—she's made Fred flustered.

Food appears on the table moments later, and Dumbledore releases them to dinner. Lee is the first one to reach in, foregoing the tongs and grabbing a piece of chicken with his fingers. Hermione starts slowly loading her plate, organizing it neatly into sections, while she turns to Angelina. "I'm putting in a petition. Fred cheated."

"_What?_" Fred gasps.

"I'm seconding Hermione," George nods. His mouth is already full, but Hermione will let his lack of manners slide this once.

Katie and Alicia chime in with agreements, and Fred is shaking his head, babbling out excuses.

"I'm going to have to agree," Angelina says when she looks down at the tally sheet. "Fred, you had to have cheated."

Fred gasps, hugging the trophy to his chest. "I did not! I had three years of betrayal stinging in the back of my mind that helped me correctly guess each first year student—"

"Not all of them," Hermione cuts in, "you missed five."

"And cheated to get the other ones right," George accuses, "because you _only missed five_."

"Okay, so you two did so poorly that you have to point out my failures to make yourselves feel better?"

Hermione glares. "Fred, you only correctly guessed ten last year! Now you get twenty-seven?"

"How did I cheat? How _would_ I cheat?"

Hermione narrows her eyes. She doesn't have an answer for that, no matter how much she thinks on it, because she has thought on it quite a lot over the past years. In all these years, she hasn't come up with a single way to cheat, but Fred and George have always been more creative than her. So, "you did. I don't know _how_ but I'll figure it out."

Ginny snorts. "'s not like he had time to plot this summer."

A surprised bark of laughter from George makes Hermione jump. Fred chokes on a strangled laugh next to her and brushes the side of her thigh under the table. It takes everything in Hermione to keep her face a normal shade and maintain her neutral expression. When the others begin to look to Ginny for an explanation, Hermione feels her stomach sink. She knows—_knows_—it was just an offhand comment made by her friend that wasn't thought through, but she's not sure how it can be covered up.

"Hermione was over almost the entire summer," Ginny says, and Hermione looks at her plate. "She and the twins made a deal that they could start offering samples if she checked over their work. They spent a lot of time working on that."

Oh, Hermione thinks. That… was much easier than she'd anticipated. She glances at Fred and he's staring at her as well. They're both going to have to get better at this if they want to keep this to themselves for even a week. He brushes her leg again, and she reaches down to trace her fingers over the inside of his hand. It's quick—just enough of a touch, a reassurance, before she brings her hand back above the table—but it gives her enough confidence to look back at her friends.

"Unfortunately, I do have to agree with that," Hermione says, adding a bitter note to her voice. It's not difficult because she _is_ bitter about the loss. She's just not bitter about how they spent the summer.

They start eating after that and there are no silences during the dinner. While one person chews, another talks (save for Ron who does both at once), and they continue to alternate back and forth, bouncing between conversations and topics. Hermione tries to keep an ear on each conversation going while she eats. After a particularly bad interaction with Ron and Nearly Headless Nick however, she only lends her attention to the debate that Lee and Katie are having about muggle schooling.

And then Dumbledore is speaking.

Angelina sits up ramrod straight as soon as he mentions Quidditch try-outs, but when the new professor cuts him off, her face goes murderous. Katie lays a hand on her shoulder and starts murmuring to her friend. It's not enough for the look on Angelina's face to disappear, but it does relax her shoulders.

Hermione listens for the next few minutes and feels her frown growing deeper the longer the woman in pink speaks. When Dumbledore finally regains control, she feels a sense of shock.

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," Hermione grumbles, brushing her knuckles along the back of Fred's arm as she turns in her seat.

He frowns down at her. "What, 'Mine?"

"_Shhhhh!_" Angelina hisses, as Dumbledore goes back to talking about try-outs. (In the end, he tells the captains to speak with their head of House to find out their slot for the weekend. Angelina scowls at her soiled napkin.)

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron asks, once Angelina turns back. "That was about the fullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

Hermione sighs, ignoring Fred and George's snickers. "I said illuminating, not enjoyable. It explained a lot."

Harry looks at her. "Did it? Sounded like a loud of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle."

Alicia frowns and nudges her with her foot. "Like what?"

"How about 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

"Well, what does that mean?" Ron demands.

Hermione looks around at her friends. "I'll tell you what it means. It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

"Does their involvement impact Quidditch?" Angelina asks with wide eyes, and Hermione can't stop her laughter.

*\

"I caught up with McGonagall after the feast last night," Angelina is telling Katie and Alicia outside of Hermione's room. They all smile at her as she joins them, but Angelina keeps talking. "Tryouts are Friday at five. We _need_ a Keeper. We could use back up Beaters with Anderson and Mullins gone, but those aren't as important. Hermione, will you come support us?"

"Of course," she nods. It's hard not to support the Quidditch team at this point. It's not even that she didn't support them before; she just doesn't have a large interest in the sport. She's invested in her friends' success though, so Quidditch has become a large part of her life.

They reach the bottom of the steps and meet Fred, George, and Lee. Harry and Ron are coming down the boys' dormitory steps and they merge over to meet them. Hermione frowns when she sees Harry. "What's the matter?" she asks. "You look absolutely—oh for heaven's sake, _Fred! George!_"

"Yes, 'Mine?" Fred sings.

"Take that down," she tells him.

George crosses his arms. "Why?"

"You can't advertise unauthorized paid jobs to students," she tells him, tearing the sign off the board and climbing out the portrait hole. The entire group follows after her in a hurry. "Can they, Ron?"

Ron whips his head around to look at her. "Wha—? Leave me out of this."

She sighs. "Look, if we don't say something, the sixth or seventh year prefects will, and you'll probably get detentions, alright? You're checking allergies and have epinephrine potions at the ready, right?"

"You'd have our heads if we didn't," Fred scoffs.

"Not offering samples of anything you haven't looked over, either," George offers.

Fred nods. "We know we're fantastic, but to give you peace of mind."

"Alright, but don't advertise on the board." She turns to Harry. "Anyways, what's up, Harry? You look really angry about something."

"Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who," Ron answers when Harry does not.

"We had to listen to Erin and Veronica go on about it all night long, too," Alicia says.

"Kenneth, tried," Lee says with a snort. "Didn't get very far when he realized who his dorm mates were."

Hermione sighs. "Yes, Lavender thinks so too."

"Nice to know that the conversation of whether I'm a lying attention-seeking prat is going around my friends as well," Harry says, glaring around the large group.

"No it's not," Hermione replies for everyone, "we've been defending you. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."

"Sorry," Harry says after a long moment.

"S'alright, mate," Fred says. He tosses an arm around Hermione's shoulder and leans around her so he can see Harry better. "You haven't technically been wrong yet, why would we doubt you now?"

"Besides, even if you are wrong, I'd rather wrongfully be prepared for You-Know-Who than rightfully unprepared," Katie chimes in.

"Exactly," Hermione agrees. "And like Dumbledore said last year, '_His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust—_'"

"How do you remember stuff like that?" Ron asks, eyes wide and awed.

"She's our Professor," Alicia grins.

Ron's shoulders deflate. "Right."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "_And_ I listen, Ron."

"So do I!"

"You looked like you'd been knocked over the head after Umbridge's speech last night!" Katie teases.

Ron's face flames. "That's different from Dumbledore's speeches though, innit? She… well… Hermione—what were you saying?"

Hermione laughs, but shifts back to her point. "I just mean that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months, and we've started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same—stand together, be united—"

"If Sorty meant the Slytherins I refuse," Lee says.

"Exactly," Ron nods.

Hermione huffs. Fred squeezes her shoulders subtly in attempt to calm her but it does nothing. "Well I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-House unity."

Just as she says that, a group of Ravenclaws spot Harry within the middle of their group and clump together and hurry away.

"Yeah," Harry says in a sarcastic, upbeat voice, "we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that."

"We can worry about that later," Angelina decides once they enter the Great Hall. "Quidditch try-outs are Friday at five, I need everyone there, alright? I know it'll be an adjustment—Oliver left and we didn't have a chance to play as a team last year. But as captain this year, I'm going to make a few changes, yeah?"

The team nods, and Ron listens, too, as Angelina starts her speech. Hermione tunes them out.

*\

"I wouldn't need to sneak you back here if you'd just use your pristine prefect privileges," Fred teases, pulling her closer by her hips.

They're behind the changing rooms of the Quidditch pitch. Try-outs just ended and to celebrate Ron earning his place as Keeper, Fred offered himself and Hermione up to get butterbeer and snacks from the kitchens. Before Hermione had even started towards the castle, Fred had gripped her hand and pulled her around the corner.

Hermione laughs, and follows his lead. "If I used them for other than what they were intended for, they'd no longer be pristine."

"Right," Fred agrees, "definitely fell short on that alliteration."

"I won't hold it against you," she teases.

"Oh, thank Merlin. I thought it might have been a breaking point for our relationship."

He bends down and bumps his nose to hers, then slots their lips together in a gentle kiss. It's their first kiss in almost a week now though it feels like much longer. They'd spent so much time together this summer and even though it had fallen off severely towards the end, they'd still manage to sneak some time away every few days.

They haven't figured out a good system at Hogwarts yet, especially not since they've just arrived back. Their friends had all missed them, and the first few weeks back are always making up the time lost over the summer.

"Oh."

Hermione jerks away from Fred and wheels around, gasping when she sees Ron there with a dropped jaw.

And, well. Yeah. Oh.

She doesn't think they're going to need a system after all.

"We were going to tell you!" Hermione yells desperately, even though she feels like she's lying through her teeth. It's not a lie, not really. They _were_ going to tell him… she's just not sure when.

"Yeah? When was that going to happen? People don't normally hide relationships, you know?"

"Soon," Fred tells him. "You're my brother and Hermione's friend. D'you really think we'd hide this forever?"

"_Forever?_" Ron scoffs, his voice pitching up an octave. "You've been together _how_ long and you're already making the jump to _forever?_"

Hermione bites her lip. This is the first time either of them has acknowledged the future of their relationship, even if it had just been an offhanded comment at first. Ron has turned it in to a genuine question, and one that she doesn't have to think much on. "Ron… It's not like Fred and I are just acquaintances trying out a relationship to see if it'll work. He's my best friend and we didn't enter a relationship lightly."

"Why hide at all? People don't hide unless they're doing something wrong," he demands. It's a loaded question. She knows the depth of her friendship with Fred had been lost on Ron until this past summer, but even so, he still seems resentful that he never knew. Hermione can't blame him. They never lied, but they certainly never corrected Ron any of the times he implied they weren't close. At the time they were able to convince each other that it was easier. That they should ease Ron into the idea because he can be possessive and, as Ginny had even _told_ her this summer, viewed Hermione as _his_ friend and not his siblings'. Ginny had said they should tell Ron, and they chose otherwise. Clearly, they went about this wrong.

Hindsight and all that.

"This is new to us," Fred says. "We wanted time for it to be _us_ before our friends and family joined."

"Joined what?"

Hermione shifts her eyes, looking over Ron's shoulder. Alicia is leading the rest of the Quidditch team, sans Harry, and Lee around the corner. She groans and puts her head in her hands. Fred steps up behind her and places a hand on the small of her back.

"We heard Ron yelling," Angelina tells them in explanation.

Ron whirls on the others who are joining them. "Did you know?"

Katie furrows her eyebrows. "Know what?"

"I did," George says moving forward. Ron looks at him. "But I also had the displeasure of walking in on them."

Hermione can't tell who it is that yells "_what?_"

"Just snogging!" George adds seeming to realize how his words could be twisted a beat too late.

"_Just_ snogging?" Angelina says. "Since when have these two _started_ snogging?"

"Just this summer," Hermione jumps in before her friends can go further. "We were going to tell you."

"We just wanted _time_," Fred repeats.

Ron scoffs. "Oh, of course. Time to sneak away, to snog behind the Quidditch pitch, to—"

"Ron," Katie cuts him off. "They don't owe us an explanation."

"Maybe not you," he sneers. "He's _my_ brother. Ginny must've known, too?" he guesses, eyes drifting back to the couple. "You spent an awful lot of time with her this summer at the same time that Fred and George always seemed to disappear."

"Ginny figured it out on her own," Fred says. He grips Hermione's hand tight—nearly crushing her hand—and she looks up at him. His eyes are narrowed and he looks like he's considered fighting with his brother over—well. It's not nothing. But like Fred, Ron can oft be overdramatic and Hermione is not about to be in the middle of a drama show down between the two brothers. She squeezes his hand and he loosens his grip instantly.

"George and Ginny never would have known if it were up to us. They would have found out at the same time as all of you," Hermione tells Ron. That, she at least feels is the truth. Maybe not George, but definitely Ginny. "And we were going to tell you soon. I wanted to let the start of the term pass, let us all get comfortable in our classes—"

Ron scoffs. "_Why?_"

Hermione cuts off. She looks up at Fred and meets his frown with one of her own. "Because we don't know what this is," she says—realizing that it absolutely is the truth—without looking to them.

Fred sighs. "This isn't new," he admits. "I've known how I feel about her for a long time, Ron. But it's also brand new, and there's—there isn't a learning curve. Neither of us has ever been in a relationship and the fact that we've been best friends for years—we need to figure out what's changed."

"The nature of our relationship has changed," Hermione says, "but we don't know how that impacts everything else. Like Fred said, there's no learning curve. We're trying to do what we think is right."

"Lying to your family and friends tends not to be _right_," Ron snaps. He spins on his heel and stomps away.

Guilt builds in Hermione's chest. Tonight was supposed to be for _Ron_, and now she's ruined it. He'd been so happy just minutes ago, and now he's running away from them. She looks at her other friends, holding her breath.

Alicia bites her lip and crosses her arms tight over her chest. "I knew. I didn't bring it up since I figured you guys would tell me when you were ready."

"What? How?" Hermione asks.

"You're one of my best friends. A part of me has always known, but last year, once I'd realized you figured it out, I knew it wouldn't be long. Plus, I've seen you two holding hands under the table."

Hermione groans and turns to hide her blush in Fred's arm.

"Well, I guess parts of us always knew, too?" Katie says.

"Fred isn't even his own self," Angelina teases. "He's either _Fred and George_ or _Fred and Hermione_. Independence, Fred. Something you should try out."

Fred smirks. "I'm a twin, independence isn't in my vocabulary."

Hermione huffs. "I live with Parvati, Fred."

"Independence isn't in her vocabulary either. When was the last time you'd seen her without Padma or Lavender?"

Hermione blinks. "That's _still_ not how it works."

*\

Ron doesn't talk to her the rest of the night. She's not surprised, really, but she is disappointed. On Saturday he's still refusing to interact with her. She asks Fred if they'd made the wrong choice, and he shrugs each time. She's sure that he's wondering the same thing; he's just less likely to admit it. After all, Ron isn't talking to Fred right now, either. Along with that, Harry's clearly been told—no doubt by Ron—and he watches her every interaction with Fred.

On Sunday, Hermione spends the day with Alicia, Angelina, and Katie by the lake. Angelina spends much of her time moaning about the Quidditch season and how much she misses having a quality Keeper. Hermione thinks it's a good thing Ron isn't talking to her (still) so he doesn't end up walking into that.

"How're you and Ron getting on, Hermione?" Katie asks once Angelina has flopped dramatically on to her back. There's a pile of torn up grass and clovers sitting in front of her that Hermione hadn't even noticed her friend pulling out.

Hermione frowns. "We're not. Not at the moment. He won't even look at me."

"Well, you probably do owe him an apology," Alicia shrugs.

Katie tilts her head, rips another handful of green from the ground. "Does she? I mean… it isn't _technically_ his business."

"Even if it wasn't—which we could debate if we take a look at his view where both his siblings knew and he didn't—it still hurt him. Even if it wasn't his business, even if Hermione had no intention to hurt him, she did. Fred did, too. They both _knew_ it, too. He deserves to have that acknowledged, even if it's a 'sorry we hurt you, it wasn't our intention.'"

"What if he doesn't accept that?" Hermione asks.

"Then _you'll_ have to accept that," Alicia shrugs. "We don't get to choose what hurts others, and we don't get to choose what others should or shouldn't forgive."

"For what it's worth," Angelina says, pulling herself up into a sitting position, "he will forgive you. It might take a little bit of time, but Fred's his brother. You're one of his closest friends. I don't think he'd willingly choose a life without either of you."

She bites her lip. "Very well. Next time we have a down moment, I'll try."

The next down moment turns out to be as soon as they return from the lake. They'd stayed out well past dinner and returned to find Harry and Ron in the back corner of the common room. Hermione hesitates momentarily, but Alicia nudges her forward. "_Go_," she tells her, and Hermione does.

Crossing the common room feels like walking the full length of the Quidditch Pitch, even though the room is small. She tries to waste time—greeting Dean, Seamus, and Neville who are all chatting over a game of Exploding Snap. Dean smiles and asks her about their Ancient Runes assignment, and she spends the next five minutes talking with him about some of the more ridiculous translations. Once a card explodes and singes her hair, she takes her leave, with Neville apologizing loudly to her retreating form.

She sees Ginny next with Crookshanks curled up in her lap and decides that's as good a distraction as any, at least until Katie rushes ahead and plops into the seat next to the girl. Hermione glares, and Katie glares right back. She sighs, makes her way over to Ron and Harry, and only lets herself hesitate for a second.

"Ron?" she calls, twisting her fingers together nervously. He looks up. When he doesn't glare or ask her to leave, she lowers herself into the chair quickly. "I'm sorry. We really never did intend to hurt you. You're important to both of us. It was wrong of us to keep our relationship from you."

"Then why did you?" Ron wrinkles his nose, but his expression doesn't twist like it did the other night.

"We already told you," she says. "And maybe it wasn't good enough reason for you, but it's the truth. We wanted time to ourselves before telling others. It was a poorly made decision and we can't take it back, but we _truly_ are sorry that you were hurt."

"Is Fred going to apologize as well, then?"

Hermione turns and picks at the loose strings on the armrest. She barely looks at him when she asks, "would you take him seriously?"

He looks down at his homework and tilts his head, trying to appear nonchalant, but Hermione knows better. "If he was being serious."

She is genuinely surprised at the answer; she's happy with it as well. She thinks that before this summer, Ron likely would have thought an apology from Fred or George was some elaborate prank. "I'll talk to him; he doesn't think you want an apology from him. You two can talk. And Ron?" she asks. He looks up again, and even Harry is staring at her now. "I truly do value you as a friend. I'm sorry for my mistakes. I'm sorry for my disregard to your feelings."

"Alright."

And then—

"Ron?" she calls again, staring at the window.

"Yeah, whatever, you're sorry, Hermione. I've not got time, I'm up to my neck in it here—"

"No, look!"

When Hermes flies in the room, it catches the attention of the others. The rest of the Weasleys and Katie all crowd around the table that Ron and Harry are working at.

The letter starts off easily enough, at least until Ron reads, "'_I must admit that I have always been rather afraid that you would take what we might call the "Fred and George" route.'_"

"We've got a lifestyle named after us," Fred grins, puffing out his chest.

George mimics his twin. "Deemed by the great and might Percy."

"We should really write him a thank you note," Fred says.

"_Dear Your Junior-ness_—"

"—_we write to thank you for your recognition of our life's work_—"

"—_it is understandable that you'd worry for our dear brother_—"

"—_we _are_ quite hard to follow up_—"

"—_however, we'd like to_—"

"Shut it," Katie rolls her eyes. "Ron, carry on."

Ron continues to read the letter, and Fred… well.

Hermione looks to him, sees the tension in his shoulders and feels his leg bouncing next to hers, where they're smashed into one chair. She reaches over and places her hand on his thigh, effectively stilling his leg. He looks to her, and Ron's voice is only a faint buzz in the background now. Fred's expression is too forced, too tight to fool her. He's trying to pretend, he's succeeding with the others, but she hasn't spent years falling in love with him by not noticing his nuances.

He's hurt.

He'd never show it, but Percy's slight at him had completely disarmed him. His big brother had just admitted that he'd been worried that Ron would take after the twins. Hermione knows that Fred knows Percy doesn't approve of their antics, but to have it spelled out—to have Percy confess that Ronald being anything like Fred and George was a _fear_…

She's pulled out of her thoughts by Ron's outburst of burning the letter, piece by torn piece. She looks at Fred. He's smiling at Ron. Of course she knows that he's still hurting from Percy's words, but Ron's response must give him much needed reassurance that his little brother doesn't share Percy's view.

Harry says something about their homework and Hermione turns from Fred, frowning. "Oh, give them here."

"What?" Ron asks.

"Give them to me, I'll look through them and correct them," she offers. Harry and Ron hand over their work, thanking her profusely, and she tells them not to wait so long next time. She gets to work, editing their sentences and correcting their statements. After a significant amount of time passes, she feels a hand grab the bun of her hair. She looks up.

"'m going up to sleep," Fred tells her. Hermione is surprised to see that it's only her, Fred, Harry, Ron, and Katie still in the common room.

"Okay," she says. She glances at both staircases, and then turns to him, pressing a short kiss to his lips. He smiles, presses his own to her forehead, and then stands up. "G'night," she says.

"Night."

*\

"No, E—E for 'exceeds expectations,'" he corrects. "I've always thought Fred and I should've got E in History of Magic, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exam."

Hermione elbows him, but carries on even as the others laugh. "So after E it's A for 'acceptable,' and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"

"Yep," Fred confirms. He dips his roll into his soup and then shoves it in his mouth. Hermione looks at him, disgusted, and he doesn't miss it. He grins at her, wide, barely able to stretch his lips up around his full mouth. She glares. He swallows the roll and gives her an unashamed, toothy smile.

Across from them, Ron continues, where Hermione left off. "Then you've got P for 'poor' and D for 'dreadful.'"

"And then T," George says.

"T?" she asks, dumbfounded. "Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?"

"Troll," George smirks. He almost looks proud.

"_Tell me_ you didn't get a—"

"D is the lowest we got, don't worry," Fred rolls his eyes exasperatedly, but his tone is fond. "We even _tried_ for a T, but apparently I'm not as good at making up my own History of Magic as I thought."

"But you two didn't take the exams _together_, you can't both be that good—"

"I got my D in Astronomy," George interrupts. "Fred got his in History of Magic."

"What did you actually get for your O.W.L.s?" Hermione frowns. "I don't think you've ever said."

"Fred got O's in Charms, Herbology, Transfiguration, Magical Theory, and Potions, and an E in Defense Against the Dark Arts," George says. "I got the same except I got an E in Magical Theory. I didn't have you feeding me books like you did this one, though."

"You never asked," Hermione argues.

Fred continues, "we got an A in Care of Magical Creatures, and I got P's in Muggle Studies and Astronomy, and a D in History of Magic."

"As for me, I got P's in Muggle Studies and History of Magic, and a D in Astronomy."

"Did you _study_ for any of those that you didn't pass?" Hermione asks.

Fred scowls. "We have no use for them; why would we do that?"

Hermione groans. "A sense of accomplishment?"

George laughs. "'Mione, if we wanted to, we could have gotten an O in Muggle Studies just between knowing you and dad. Fred probably could have done much better in History of Magic what with all the books he's read after some of your conversations."

"And Astronomy?"

"We never cared much for it, nor do we have anyone that taught us about it."

Hermione quirks an eyebrow. "Your professor?"

"Who cares about professors?"

"Good students."

"Oh," Fred says. "Well, 's a good thing we're not good students."

*\

She doesn't want to celebrate her birthday this year, not even a bit. However, she can't tell this to her friends without them wanting to know why. So she wakes up extra early and smiles at Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Ginny when they appear at her door to walk her down stairs. She hugs Fred, George, and Lee when they shoot off fireworks when she enters the common room. She eats her chocolate chip waffles and opens her gifts, even gets excited about them, at least until the owls start arriving. She puts all of her focus into her waffle and keeping a smile on her face at this point.

"Parents have a mail delay?" Fred teases a few minutes later once all the owls filter out through the windows. Hermione's smile flickers, and by the look in Fred's eye, he's noticed. She turns away to find that no one else seems aware.

"How're you going to last without the new shelf of books?" George gasps.

"You don't know that she'd be getting another shelf of books," Alicia argues, "last year they sent that _beautiful_ leather bound journal."

"They gave me their gift earlier this summer," Hermione says. "We spent a few days at Diagon Alley and they bought me a few books I'd really been wanting."

The entire group seems to accept that, and they move on.

Hermione asks Fred to sit with her in the kitchens for lunch. She doesn't think she can deal with Alicia trying to make her feel better or Lee trying to make her smile if they find out that she is upset on her birthday. Perhaps hiding isn't the best idea, but it's the only one she's got. She knows Fred is still going to pick at her, but she can deal with him—and he'll give her enough respect to leave it alone for the moment.

She's proven right as soon as they sit down at the kitchen's table. "At breakfast, about your parents…"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Hermione tells him with a sad smile.

"Is it because you stayed with us this summer?" His voice is tinged with anger. She doesn't blame him because if that were what had caused an absence of gift or acknowledgement from them she would be angry too.

She reaches her hand and squeezes his knee. His hand seems to fall on top of hers more out of reflex than intent, but it's comforting nonetheless. "No. Please, Fred, don't make me talk about it."

"Alright. Are… are they well, though?"

This is why she brought Fred here, and no one else. Though, Harry or Ron might have let it go as well due to the fact that they really have no idea how to respond to any sort of emotion. Hermione nods at Fred. "Yes. They are. And they will continue to be."

"I'm glad for that much," he says. "And anything you need…"

"I know. Thank you."

He shakes his head. "Don't thank me, 'Mine."

"_Thank you_," she says again with a stronger voice. She leans over to kiss him and he meets her half way. When they pull away, Hermione closes her eyes and rests her chin on his shoulder.

"Miss Granger, Mister Weasley," Riri greets. "Can Riri assist?"

"Hello, Riri," Fred smiles. Hermione pulls away from him and turns to smile at the house elf. "How've you settled in?"

Riri had joined the house elves late last year and Fred had taken a liking to her. She'd been looking for work for almost a year before she met Dobby during one of his vacation days. No one had gotten a backstory out of her yet, but she spoke with as few words as possible, which Hermione thinks must be from how she was treated in her old home.

"Well. Can Riri assist?"

"No, thank you though," Hermione answers. "May I ask a question?" Riri nods once. "How would you like a hat? Remember, nothing I give you will mean you can no longer work here. Professor Dumbledore is in charge of Hogwarts. But I'd like to make you a hat to keep your ears warm if you'd like one."

"Does not need."

"No, of course not," she tries, even while her heart breaks for the elf. Very few of the Hogwarts elves are still left only with their towels. Hermione and her friends have taken to providing each with at least one hat or pair of socks over the past year. It had been surprisingly easy to convince the elves to let Hermione give them 'gifts' once she called them her friends. "Of course you don't need one, but would you like one?"

"Does not need."

"May I make you one?"

Riri blinks. "Why?"

"You're our friend," she says, motioning between herself and Fred. "I like giving gifts to my friends."

"'Mione is very good at making hats," Fred tells the elf. She twitches her ears and looks at him. "The hats she makes are warm and fuzzy. See the hats the others have on? Hermione made those. If she makes one for you, will you wear it?"

She nods.

"Do you like purple?" Hermione asks.

She nods.

Hermione offers the house elf a wide smile. "Wonderful."

*\

"Okay." Harry calls attention to the group after telling off Zacharias Smith. Hermione reaches up to scratch her nose so she can hide her smirk at Smith's disgusted look. "I reckon we should all divide in to pairs and practice." After thirty seconds or so, Harry looks around the room at the pairs—an anxious Neville shifting from foot to foot next to him—and then settles on her. "Hermione? Ron? Would you two like to demonstrate the exercise?"

They both let out an affirmative and Ron moves to stand across from Hermione, wand poised and ready to go. Off to the side, she hears a soft, unmistakable voice say, "one sickle."

An answer of "you're on."

She doesn't let the pride she feels swelling in her chest show on her face.

Ron's wand twitches, but she's much quicker, and with a quick "_expelliarmus!_" Ron's wand flies from his hand into the crowd of spectators. She glances over and watches George pass a sickle into Fred's waiting hand. When George catches her eye, she gives him a sweet smile, and he shrugs. Fred just grins.

Harry nods and encourages the rest of the room to start their own practice. Ron remains across from Hermione, with Katie and Lee to their right, and Fred and George to their left. While wands begin flying around the room, she doesn't think she's seen Fred or George disarm each other a single time. After disarming Ron again and waiting for him to retrieve his wand, she looks to them. They're casting the spell, but not at each other. She can't stop the snort of laughter that comes from her when she sees Zacharias Smith's wand fly from his hand. Fred winks at her and George apologizes to Harry.

Neither of the twins look sorry.

Neville wanders over then, stuttering with a request to join them while Harry observes the others, and Hermione backs out of her position. "Of course, you can practice with Ron."

_He needs it_, she wants to tease, but she's not sure where their friendship stands at the moment. What if he doesn't take it as a tease, as a fond joke about her beating him a few times? It's not worth the risk.

Hermione walks over to where Katie is practicing with Alicia. Alicia disarms Katie and then looks at Hermione and smiles. "Harry's doing well so far."

"Everyone else is, too," Hermione nods. The room is full of shouts and flashes of light and flying wands. One of which whizzes right past Hermione's face and connects with Alicia's nose.

"_Oi!_" Alicia yelps, reaching up to clutch a hand to her face. Hermione is worried, thinking that her friend may be bleeding or have a broken nose, but she pulls her hand away a moment later. She crouches down to pick up the wand and narrows her eyes at the figure approaching. "Tell your partner good job," Alicia says, "but maybe they're putting a little too much into this spell."

Hermione looks at the wizard—Terry Boot. Ravenclaw's fifth year prefect. His face is bright red as he takes his wand from Alicia, mumbling an apology. "He caught me off guard."

"No worries," Alicia says. "Getting hit in the face caught me off guard, too. I know how it is."

Terry nods, and then retreats back to his partner. Hermione grabs Alicia's chin and examines her face. "Does anything feel wrong?" she demands, turning her friend's face in her hands, trying to make sure the shape of her nose remains the same.

Alicia laughs and bats Hermione's hands away. "I'm fine, mother o'Mione."

Hermione draws in a quick breath—feeling a sense of _wrongness_ at the name—and drops her hands from Alicia's face. "I _heard_ that hit you," Hermione says, letting surprise into her tone. It had sounded painful.

"So did I," Katie says. She's a few feet away with Lee, while Fred, George, and Angelina all watch Ginny disarm her boyfriend, time after time.

"I'm fine. I'll probably just have a bump, yeah?"

Hermione frowns. She pokes around Alicia's face until she finds a spot that makes her wince. "Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"

"What? C'mon, 'Mione, I'm _fine_. I get hit way harder by bludgers."

"Hey, Harry?" Hermione calls, and Alicia huffs. "Have you checked the time?"

When it's announced that they have to start heading back, Hermione turns to Alicia with a grin. "How do you even sit through our Quidditch games when you're this overbearing?" Alicia asks, but her voice is fond.

"Madam Pomfrey knows about Quidditch. If something happens on the pitch you'll have help right away. Not in here."

Alicia's face smoothed out. "Thank you, then. For being my help."

"Any time."

*\

"_'How come you're not in Ravenclaw?'_" Fred mocks behind her. She turns to him with a raised eyebrow. He frowns, looking from her to watch Terry Boot leave. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"I feel like you're not."

"You know, I'm really not, but Terry Boot has no effect on either of our lives, and neither does the Ravenclaw House," he says. "So I'm not actually threatened by him, but I also have no reason to feel bad mocking him."

"He's a person."

"So?" Fred asks as Harry and Ron duck out of the door, leaving Hermione and him alone.

Hermione laughs and reaches blindly for Fred's hand. She finds his forearm and traces down until she can link their fingers. "You should feel bad for mocking him because he's a person."

"So is Malfoy."

"Terry Boot is a _decent_ person, Fred."

Fred heaves an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, I'll feel bad."

"Thank you."

"This doesn't seem right," he says. "Aren't you supposed to make me feel better about myself? Right? Fall in love and that person doesn't want you to feel sad, right?"

Hermione squeezes his hand and drags him towards the door.

*\

"Oh no," Hermione mutters when she sees Angelina gripping one of the twins arms. She doesn't need much to tell that Fred is the one who needs to be held back.

Malfoy keeps talking, stepping closer line by line, and Alicia rushes in to grab Fred's other arm. Another step forward from Malfoy and Katie is at his front, hands on his chest and pushing him back with her feet planted firmly on the ground. Hermione's eyes flick to Harry who seems to be holding George back—it's nothing like her other friends' restraint on her boyfriend, just more of a reminder not to engage. She's thankful for that much—at least until Harry drops George's arm and runs towards Malfoy himself, George joining with no hesitation.

Fred is struggling against the girls and Hermione is quite positive that he could break free by now if he weren't cautious of accidentally injuring his friends. "Oh, god," she groans. She hears the stands cheering and chanting, but she doesn't stick around for that. She reaches back and grabs Ginny's wrist, pulling her along. "Come on."

The two of them make it down to the pitch belatedly. George and Harry have already started up to the castle, far enough along that they're just two dots on the hill now, and the rest of the team has retreated to their changing room. Hermione moves to stand outside the door, waiting. It's not until the majority of the crowd have started back up to the castle that anyone emerges from the rooms. Her head shoots up from where she had been staring at the ground to find Katie.

"I don't know if I'd stick around right now, Hermione. He's not in a good mood," the girl warns her.

"That's precisely why I'm _going_ to stick around. What happened?"

Katie nods at her resolve. "Better you than me," she jokes. "Malfoy was going after Ron again, he's not handling much well."

With Katie's departure, Ginny takes hers as well, walking back to the castle with the sixth year. A few moments later, Alicia and Angelina walk out, arguing about something. They both freeze when they see her.

"Thank Merlin," Alicia says. "Fred's sulking in there. If it were just about what that tosser said I wouldn't care, but he's angry at _us_ for not letting him attack the git."

"Work your magic," Angelina begs. "I don't even care if that magic involves an Imperius Curse right now."

Hermione gives a small laugh. "Sure. Is Ron almost done, then?"

The two older girls give each other a look. Alicia furrows her eyebrows together. "He never came in after the game. I don't know where he is."

That shouldn't surprise Hermione as much as it does.

"Thank you. See you at dinner?"

Alicia and Angelina both nod, and then they're gone. Hermione takes a steadying breath before slipping in the changing room's entrance.

Fred is sat in his stall slumped over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His knees are bouncing, causing it to look like his entire body is vibrating. Hermione crosses the room to stand in front of him and pauses. She hesitates for only a moment before she cards her fingers into his hair. He jumps. "It's just me," she murmurs. Immediately, his shoulders relax and he presses his head into her hands.

"Hello," he says without looking up at her. He moves his hands from his head and wraps his arms around her waist. He pulls her in close so he can bury his face into the fabric of her shirt that covers her stomach. She scratches at his scalp with her nails and he hums. "Thought you might be angry at me."

"No," she says. She's not. It didn't cross her mind if she's being completely honest. She knows how cruel Malfoy can be—hell, _she's_ slapped him before. Fred wasn't going to take kindly to the entire Slytherin House bullying his younger brother. When you then add in whatever Malfoy's words had been… She knows Fred. She might wish he'd make different choices sometimes, but she'll never love him any less for the choices he does make. The choices he does make tend to be impulsive and brazen, but they're never without some reason. It goes back to her discussion with Ron at the very start of their past summer: he takes everything personally and cares too much.

"That's a relief. You're the only one who's not."

Hermione sighs. "The others are only mad because they think you're mad at them."

His arms tighten around her waist and his face pushes harder against her stomach. "I know. I'm not really angry."

"I never thought you were." She slips her hand from his hair and traces it down to his jaw. She guides his head up so he's looking up at her and she finds his gaze. "Alicia, Ange, and Katie, on the other hand…"

"I'll apologize."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he laughs, but it's devoid of his usual mirth. It's sad and self-depreciating now. "They're my friends. I shouldn't have been upset with them when they thought they were helping me."

"When they _actually were_ helping you," Hermione corrects.

Fred rolls his eyes but smirks up at her. "Sure, love."

And—that's that.

So he's impulsive and would rather ask forgiveness than permission but, well. He's really good at asking forgiveness.

*\

Christmas holidays grew nearer and Hermione's anxiety grew deeper. She's had her cover story planned out since summer, but it's still hard to force out to her friends.

Harry had remained behind after this meeting (to try and talk to Cho, Hermione guesses), so she and Ron hurry to reach his siblings and their friends. When they do, Alicia is talking about travelling to Dorset to spend the holiday with Oliver. Hermione falls in to place next to Fred, and Ron next to Ginny. When Alicia finishes, attention turns to Hermione.

"What will you be doing, 'Mione?" Lee asks as they near the portrait hole.

Hermione's shoulders tense. She's been waiting for the question for weeks now, but even while she's had her answer prepared it's not easy to answer. "It sounds like my parents are planning a ski trip to France."

"Take me with you," Ginny pleads. She turns and says the password, and they all climb through into the common room.

Hermione puts all her effort in to making her laugh sound genuine. "I wish I could. They've already booked the tickets and the resort is over an hour from the closest public floo." It is—she did her research. She knows exactly the resort that she'd be going to if she were actually to go. The closest wizarding community is almost an hour and a half north of the resort. "I'm going to grab some work if anyone wants to meet down here and study."

It works as a decent escape, as the subject has changed by the time she comes back down.

By the time Harry returns, Ginny, Angelina, and George have gone to bed. Fred, Alicia, Lee, and Ron are finishing homework, Katie is drawing up Quidditch plays, and Hermione is working to finish her latest letter to Viktor. None of them are talking much unless someone has a question—at least not until they see Harry.

Harry is silent and wide-eyed when he sits with them, and the rest of the group fall in to questions. She lets the others bombard him with questions—ranging from who he caught snogging to who caught him leaving the D.A.

"Is it Cho?" Hermione finally asks, raising her voice above the others. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Harry nods. Ron laughs, and Lee grins and says, "Well done, Harry."

"What did she want?" Ron asks.

Harry looks around the group. "She—she—er—"

"Did you kiss?" Hermione asks, prompting him towards the answer that she's expecting.

Ron spills his ink as he scrambles up. Katie screeches from next to him as the bottle splatters her parchment with globs of ink. Ron doesn't even spare her a glance. "Well?"

Harry nods, and the boys of the group erupt. Fred leans across Hermione to slap Harry on the back in congratulations, and Lee repeats his "well done" a few more times. Ron falls to the floor as he laughs. He stops only when Katie grabs the back of his robes and holds him to the ground. His robes are covered in glossy patches of ink, which Hermione knows she's going to have to _scourgify_ later.

"Well? How was it?" Ron wonders. The side of his face is still pressed to the ground; he does not look bothered in the slightest.

"Wet," Harry says after a moment's consideration. Ron makes a noise in the back of his throat, Fred's mouth opens ready to say something before he seemingly thinks better of it, and Alicia furrows her eyebrows. Harry continues, "because she was crying."

"Oh." Ron's smile drops. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

Katie releases Ron's robes and reaches to cuff the back of his head. "Shut up."

Hermione looks up from what she's writing over to Harry and sees him deep in thought. "Dunno. Maybe I am."

She sighs. "Of course you're not."

"How do you know?" Ron demands.

"I'd also love to know," Alicia teases.

"Yeah, 'Mine," Fred nudges her. "Do I need to be worried?"

"Yes," Hermione deadpans. She looks to Harry. "Cho spends half her time crying these days."

Everyone seems to want to jump in at that point, and they spend the next twenty minutes discussing Cho's theoretical feelings and Harry's theoretical kissing skills.

Once that dies down, they're the last ones in the common room. Hermione looks down at her letter. It feels lacking, but she can't think of much else to add, so she begins to roll it up.

"Say hi to Viktor for me," Katie says, her eyes still focused on her potions essay.

Hermione pauses and unrolls the parchment.

_My friends say hi and wish you Happy Holidays. _

_ With love, _

_ Hermione_

She rolls it up once again, seals it, and checks the time. It's well past midnight. She collects her belongings and stands. "I'm going to sleep then, g'night."

There's an echo of 'good night's, and a hand on her elbow. She looks down and sees Fred staring up at her. "Night," he says, and pushes off the couch for a chaste kiss. She smiles at him, and then moves towards the steps.

"Was she writing to Krum? Maybe you _do_ have something to worry about, Fred," Ron tries to whisper.

"Yeah, I'm worried about having to live up to his letters when I'm not at Hogwarts next year. Have your seen his letters? I'm no where near that eloquent."

*\

Lee is waiting for her in the common room the next morning. He tells her that McGonagall retrieved Fred and George in the middle of the night, but he did not know why. It isn't hard to figure out that it had been _something_ involving their family, as neither of the other Weasley siblings nor Harry show up for breakfast.

"There's been a family emergency," Dumbledore says before she can leave the hall after breakfast. "I can put you in contact with Molly if you'd like."

Molly invites her to join them for the holidays, and Hermione thinks that whatever is happening is big enough that she'd reasonably be able to convince her parents. So she says yes; she tells Molly she'll have to speak with her parents, but it should be fine.

When Hermione arrives at 12 Grimmauld Place, she isn't sure what to expect. Molly had been too emotional to expand upon what happened; all Hermione knows is that there was an accident. When she does get there, the front door opens shortly after she's rung the bell, and she's yanked inside.

Tonks ushers her down the hall, past the screaming portrait, and into the kitchen. The Weasleys, Remus, and Sirius are all sitting at the long table, none of them paying her any mind until Ginny looks up. "Hermione?"

Fred's head snaps up then. He's out of his seat in a second, knocking the chair over in his haste to get to her. "What're you doing here?" he asks as he pulls her to his chest and pushes his face into her hair.

"Dumbledore told me something had happened. I talked to my parents and decided to come here instead," she explains. Her hands come up to rub up and down his back. He's breathing heavy, so she squeezes him. "Fred, what's wrong? Please talk to me—no one is talking to me."

"Dad," he says. "Dad's in St. Mungo's."

Hermione's breath hitches. She wants to push away, wants to look at Fred's face so she can judge how bad it is without having to ask, but she also thinks that this hug is explanation enough. "I'm sorry."

He takes in a deep breath, and then steps away. "It's—he's going to be okay. So it's okay. Thank you for coming."

"Anything for you," she murmurs. "You know that."

She pulls away finally, and moves to Ginny. She holds her and expresses a similar sentiment. George nods at her from across the table, and Ron lifts a hand in a half-wave. Molly moves to her.

"Thank you for coming, dear. And thank your parents for allowing you too, will you?"

"Of course," Hermione nods, hugging the woman. When she's released, she goes to stand next to Fred, who slips an arm around her waist automatically. She notices Molly staring, and braces herself for… something. An argument, a disappointed frown, a pointed look at Ron… None of them come. Instead, Molly looks at Fred, then Hermione, and smiles.

*\

Fred doesn't miss the absence of owls from her parents. She'd hoped that letters and gifts from her friends would be distraction enough that he wouldn't know. It was foolish to hope for that. Especially not once he finds her locked away in the library with tears tracking down her cheeks.

"I've given you time," he says. "Now tell me."

Despite the demand in his words, his tone is pleading. Hermione thinks that if she looks close enough, she can see helplessness pouring off of him—in the way he reaches for her but pulls back, the way his eyes flick between her crossed arms and tense shoulders and tear soaked eyes, the way his brow furrows.

Hermione wipes hear face and sniffles. She doesn't have to ask what he's talking about—she knows he's put these things together. Hermione Granger wouldn't fall in love with a stupid man, after all.

"Voldemort came back," she says simply.

Fred sits beside her. Takes her hand. Frowns. "Yeah. We've thought he would for a while…"

"But he's actually back now. Harry said he's got a body, and his followers are back, and that means Muggleborns and their families are in danger again."

"Well, yes."

"I'm one of Harry's best friends. Not to mention the fact that the press was writing ridiculous articles about us last year… My name and face and _status_ are out there for everyone. As well as a very strong implication that I'm going to help Harry take Voldemort down."

"Okay," Fred says. "I don't see—"

"My parents weren't safe. I… I made them safe."

There's a quick intake of breath. "What did you do?"

"It—uh. A memory charm. There's no way they would have left me if I had asked them. So I—I took them with me to Diagon Alley and modified their memories, then escorted them home under the guise of a cab driver. They don't remember me. I, uh. We went through the process of changing their names this last year. I told them if I couldn't be traced back to them I'd be safer. I really thought that was all we'd have to do, you have to believe me. They did. And, well, since they'd do anything for me… Granger is no more. Changed names, a memory charm, and suddenly it is their dream to move to Australia. The house is on the market now. I checked before I got on the Knight Bus."

"_Hermione_."

"I will not sit around and wait for a Death Eater to go after my family as—as bait for me, or for fun, or for their _revolting_ idea of justice. This is my war. Not my parents."

"You're their daughter, Hermione, they'd—"

"Not anymore, I'm not. That's… it's another good thing. If—well. If I'm to die in this war—"

Fred grips her hand tight. "Don't think like that."

"It's a _war_, Fred! How else am I supposed to think? Voldemort killed Cedric for no reason! Harry and Cedric weren't even close; he wouldn't hesitate to kill one of Harry's muggleborn best friends that would fight for him. I don't want my parents to lose me—their _only_ daughter. They felt enough like they'd lost me when I started Hogwarts, but they tried to make up for it every time I went home. If I am to die, they'll never have to hear the news, and never have to feel the pain."

"The pain is what reminds us we've loved," Fred tells her like he's channeling Dumbledore. Hermione doesn't want to hear it.

"Yeah, and I'm remembering I loved—I _love_. But I won't put them through that. They didn't want me to come here in the first place. Professor McGonagall left them information on the dangers of uncontrolled magic and they sent me here to… I don't know. Protect me, I suppose. They didn't send me here because they wanted to, or because they were _happy_ that I'm a witch. They did it because they loved me and wanted me safe. It's only fair that I return that love."

"What if you survive, if we win?" He asks that in a tone that she thinks means that if she doesn't survive, he would not call it a win even if Voldemort is defeated. "'Mine, you'll never see your parents again."

Hermione shakes her head. "I didn't obliviate them. I used a memory modification charm. It should be reversible if I did it correctly."

"You were only fifteen and that's advanced magic. That's risky—"

"Leaving them at home was risky, Fred. Leaving them as my parents was risky. If I can't reverse it, at least I'll know I saved their lives. I'm okay with that risk."

"There are other options. We can—"

"Please, can we stop talking about this?" she pleads. "I'm tired."

He stops talking and stares at her. "Of course," he says. He doesn't sound happy about it, but he pulls her closer to his chest nonetheless. "Why don't you go sleep? I'll stay with you for a while, wake you up before dinner, yeah?"

Hermione looks at him. He looks so concerned, so upset, Hermione has to agree in the off chance that it helps him. A nap might help her, anyways. "Yeah."

*\

The rest of break goes quickly, and Hermione buries herself in work upon their arrival at Hogwarts. Alicia tries to keep her grounded, but she's busy with her own studying for her upcoming N.E.W.T.s. Fred tries to help since he has no Quidditch practice, but he and George have thrown themselves into research for more and more products with their free time.

It's not until Valentine's Day that she gets a full break, and she's not sure she considers it a break.

Fred, George, and Lee sit around a table in Three Broomsticks with her, chatting about their new products, about the Quidditch team, and about the upcoming interview that Harry would be there for soon.

"I've already told you about what happened," Hermione rolls her eyes when Lee starts theorizing.

"I know, love," Fred says, knocking his elbow into hers, "but that was your summary of what he said."

"And we learned this summer how much you can leave out when you summarize," George says. "_Moony and Padfoot_, 'Mione!"

"And," Lee cuts in before Hermione can so much as scowl at George, "as much as you hate her, Skeeter is a good interviewer. She might get things out of Harry that you didn't get to hear."

"I suppose," she sighs. "I—this doesn't feel like the best idea."

"It's probably not," George says.

Hermione scowls. "Thanks."

"Well, it isn't," Fred says. Hermione turns her glare onto him. "The best idea probably isn't probable. This one is the best idea that you had to go with."

"What?"

"It's like with the house-elves," Fred begins.

George nods. "The _best_ idea would be to liberate them like you wanted. Free them and then _they_ could choose how they wanted to work."

"But," Fred continues, "that wasn't probable. The owners and elves wouldn't go for it. So we had to take a few steps back and figure out the best idea that would work."

"It's something that Quidditch players do a lot—there's a lot of reevaluating and figuring out the _safest_ bet—not the _best_—in a game that's so fast paced."

Hermione is skeptical. "You'd call Rita Skeeter a _safe_ bet?"

"Maybe not," Lee says. "She is safer than putting Harry in danger through Umbridge though."

It's not long before Luna and Rita join them, and after that, Harry.

She truly, truly hopes that this will work.

*\

"A Patronus is your greatest—and only—defense against a dementor." Harry is standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement, spinning in circles as he talks to the group. He's continued to improve in his public speaking skills, and Hermione wants to ask him now if he might consider a career as a professor. She doesn't think he'd say yes, but it could at least be something to bring up at his career advisement. "Dementors _feed_ on happiness and in turn, your happiness—happiness so strong that it can't be taken—is your only defense against them. Your Patronus is an embodiment of you—of something so deep in you that you need a spell to bring it out of you. Every Patronus is based on its caster. One of the most powerful Patronus charms cast was a mouse, so don't feel let down if someone gets a lion and you get a kitten. It is there to protect you, and it will if you do this right."

Hermione watches as Harry casts the spell. A bright blue light erupts from his wand, and she grins at everyone's faces as they watch Harry's stag bounce around the room before dissipating into thin air.

"Now," Harry says. "You all know the charm—_Expecto Patronum!_ Everyone give it your best shot and I'll be around to help, yeah?"

A few minutes later, the room is filled with shouts and blue wisps, and some fully formed shapes. Hermione has yet to try, content to watch those around her—also quite fearful that she won't succeed. While she's fine with failure, she's not fine with failure in front of such a large crowd.

A blob flies from Fred's wand and Hermione ducks. She's about to tease him for the power he put behind an incorporeal Patronus, but a shimmering bird flies over then and lands on her shoulder. She looks at it and grins. It seems to glow brighter, form a more solid shape for just a moment, and then disappears in a blink. She turns to Fred, who is watching her with a smirk. "Gotta keep up, Granger," he teases, "I already got my bird to like you, I haven't even met your Patronus."

Behind him, Alicia shouts out the incantation, stronger than she had been moments ago, and a shape burst from her wand. It bounds around the air, and Hermione can just barely make out the shape of a squirrel. She lifts her own wand and takes a deep, centering breath and _thinks_.

Happy memory.

Her parents, their last vacation.

No. Right now, thought of her parents makes her more upset than it does happy.

Magic, then.

The first time she had gotten to _use_ magic, truly.

No. She'd been bullied.

Acceptance, then.

_The Wizarding world has just been waiting for you to arrive._

Warmth spreads across her chest and she smiles involuntarily. Of course.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" she yells, and silver shoots from her wand. A small creature skitters about the room, quick enough that she struggles to place exactly what it is. It finally comes to a stop in front of her and sits up on its back legs. A shimmery, wispy otter sits, staring at her. Her smile grows wider, reveling in the existence of it, and then it vanishes. "Oh."

"Nice one, 'Mine," Fred praises.

"Yeah, they don't stick around for long," George frowns. "Once we're better at them, though, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hermione agrees. She looks away and hears Harry talking with Cho about needing a boggart, and then Lavender getting frustrated.

Harry was nearing her, and, well.

Hermione likes validation, okay? It's not hard to focus on Fred's blatant acceptance, cast the spell again, and let her otter flounce around so Harry can see that she'd been successful. Watching the wispy figure dance, she smiles. "They _are_ sort of nice, aren't they?"

Harry gives her a nod of acknowledgement and she preens.

Fred walks over once Harry turns away and bumps her with his elbow. "He didn't even compliment you like I did, and you look like McGonagall just told you you're the brightest witch alive."

"I watched Harry use this charm to drive away countless dementors. I don't think I could do that, but I'm proud that I can produce a corporeal patronus."

"As you should be," he says. She feels the warmth spread in her chest again, and reaches over to squeeze his forearm in thanks. Even as she sees several other corporeal forms around the room, knowing she's far from being alone in her success, she—it's just nice to be validated, without the teasing she'd been so used to from primary school, and even her classmates now, albeit to a lesser degree.

Before they can carry their conversation any further, Dobby is throwing himself into a wall and Harry is screaming at the room to _go_.

Hermione looks back at her older friends and Ginny. "_Go_," she says. "Get back to the common room _now!_"

Fred narrows his eyes. "Hermione—"

"Umbridge would love a reason to remove the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and _you three_," she says, looking between the twins and Lee, "have enough of a record that she'd love an excuse to expel you. So _go!_ I'll be there soon, okay?"

"You'd better be," Alicia tells her. She grabs Fred's hand then and _tugs_. Hermione watches as he nearly trips over himself as he tries to keep up with Alicia.

It's a blur after that. She escapes with a group, Ron right ahead of her and Harry right behind, but when she turns around, Harry is gone. She curses but keeps running. If he'd been caught, it won't help either of their cases for her to go back. She can hope instead that he found cover somewhere.

Her and Ron make it back to the Gryffindor's wing without being caught. When they slip through the portrait hole, they're hit with a wall of noise.

"Where's Harry?" seems to be the loudest question, called out from at least three different people, in three different parts of the room.

"We… don't know," Ron says, and looks to Hermione nervously.

"He could have gotten to the bathroom," Hermione tries, but she thinks her voice gives it away that she's… more than a little unsure about that.

"So, what," Dean yells, "is he going to get expelled?"

Hermione shakes her head. "No. They… He won't be. He can't be. Whoever told them won't be able to speak by now."

"_What?_" Ginny shrieks. "Why not?"

Hermione looks around. She foregoes answering that, and walks out of the portrait hole and to the couch where the seventh years were sitting. Ron isn't far behind. She plops down between Angelina and Fred, and puts her head in her hands. "I placed a jinx on the paper so we'd know who told, and so they wouldn't be able to answer questions or talk about the D.A."

Angelina wraps an arm around her. "How'd you do that?"

"Y'know the paper you all signed in the Hog's Head?"

"That's _brilliant_," Fred gasps. "'Mine, you've got to teach us."

"We can worry about that later," Alicia snaps. She's moved so she's directly in front of Hermione, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. "'Mione, what's the jinx?"

"I made it. It gives the person who told boils—it spells out 'sneak' on their face. And of course they can't talk."

"If I weren't already in love with you I would be now," Fred tells her. She suppresses a grin at that because she likes the sentiment, but she's also nearing a state of panic because _Harry still isn't back_.

She looks over to Ron, who is sitting on the floor, and they frown at each other. "I think it's safe to say Harry was caught," Ron says, and he looks just as panicked as she feels.

"Harry's always been a better liar than most people," George says. "He needs to be in order to sneak around as much as he does."

Merlin, she hopes he's right.

*\

Harry didn't get expelled.

Hermione considers this a good thing, she thinks.

Sure, she doesn't think Hogwarts is a safe place for anyone right now—not when Malfoy is docking points because of her blood status—but also she has hope that Umbridge won't be here next year. None of their other Defense professors have lasted longer than a year, so there's still hope. So she's glad that Harry is still here, and she's glad that she's still able to remain somewhat positive.

That positivity doesn't last long.

Hermione holds her breath as she listens to Fred and George tell them about Montague. "But—you'll get in terrible trouble," she frets, thinking about all of the punishments that Umbridge may inflict upon them.

Fred shrugs. "Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him." He shares a look with George. "Anyway—we've decided we don't care about getting in to trouble anymore."

Hermione blinks. "Have you ever?" she teases, but she's still curious.

"'Course we have," George says, affronted. "Never been expelled, have we?"

"We've always known where to draw the line," Fred explains.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally," George continues.

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," finishes Fred.

"But now?" Ron wonders.

George shrugs. "Well now—"

"—what with Dumbledore gone—"

"—we reckon a bit of mayhem—"

"—is _exactly_ what our dear new Head deserves."

"You mustn't! You—you _can't_," Hermione whispers fiercely, feeling her heart tearing because she _knows_ they _must_. It's who they are, and it's what they do. And yet, she can't help reminding them, "she'd love a reason to expel you!"

Fred glances at George, then back at Hermione. "You don't get it, 'Mine, do you?" he smiles sadly. "We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first."

Hermione sucks in a breath. "Fred…"

"So anyway," he says, clearing his throat and looking away from her, "phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

Her heart stops. They're doing it _now?_ "Anything to do with _what?_" she worries.

Fred offers her a smile, one that feels wholly private despite their surroundings, and George claps her on the shoulder. "You'll see, 'Mione! Run along now, please! Go on."

She watches them go and wraps her arms around her middle, terrified that this will be the last time she sees them for months. It can't be—she didn't even get to say good-bye. If they were doing something that risks expulsion, Fred would have left her with more than a smile. She's confident in that. Still, her stomach turns when she forces her eyes away from their retreating forms. "I think we should get out of here, you know, just in case…" she says. Fred and George wouldn't want to run the risk of her getting in trouble. She won't put any undue stress on their shoulders.

*\

They're in the kitchen for dinner one night when it happens.

"We're leaving," Fred says.

And… there it is. It's out there, and it's official. Hermione draws in a shaky breath. She nods. "Okay."

Fred hesitates. "You're… okay with this?"

"No," she tells him, "but I do understand it. You two don't need this place, Fred. You never have. You're not _happy_ here, and—"

"'Mione, no one is happy here right now. Well, maybe the Slytherins, but—"

"But you two… _you_. You're not meant to be unhappy. You're supposed to bring joy and laughter. Not submit to a mad witch's educational decrees. There's nothing more you can do here. What you can do is make your jokes and be ready to cheer us all up when we get out of this mess."

"I love you," he reminds her. "More than anything, and if I could stay—or if I could take you with me and take you away from here…"

"I know. Fred, I know, and I appreciate that. I'll be okay though. You really think Alicia will let anything happen to me?"

"I'm worried about everyone. This school doesn't feel _safe_ anymore."

"It's not—not entirely," she says. "But it's safe enough, and it'll only be a few months. We'll be fine, Fred."

He grimaces—he clearly doesn't believe her, but that might be because she doesn't believe herself.

*\

Hermione's head is spinning. Katie is sorting through all the pamphlets, stacking them in two piles—positions that would interest Hermione and that she's able to meet the requirements of, and then positions she's positive Hermione would not be interested in.

Ron is sifting through another pile, picking and choosing at random.

She's reading up on security work when two hands clamp down on her shoulders. There's laughter behind her as she nearly jumps out of her seat. She twists around to glare up at Fred. "Hilarious," she deadpans, then lifts up her flier. "I'm going to train a security troll so you won't be able to do that again."

"You three went up against a troll when you were in your first year," Katie says, setting another pamphlet in the 'no' pile, "I don't know how effective one will be on Fred and George."

"Hey!" Ron yells.

Katie looks up and quirks an eyebrow at him. "You said you beat it by dropping its club on its head, Ron. Think of all the spells you know _now_ that could have taken it down earlier."

"I think we just got very lucky," Hermione says. "I mean, obviously. Trolls are volatile and commonly aggressive. Plus, they feed on humans. What if the one we faced was weak? It was clearly scared."

"Are they even smart enough to be trained?" Harry asks.

Hermione holds up the flier again. "Clearly, otherwise there wouldn't be a job for training them."

With the discussion seemingly settled there, Hermione, Katie, Ron, and Harry return back to what they had been doing. George moves to take a seat next to Harry, while Fred slips onto the armrest of Hermione's chair. He drapes his arm loosely over her shoulders while she reaches for a new pamphlet, and reaches out a foot to nudge Harry. "Hey. Ginny's had a word with us about you," he says. Hermione snaps her head up to face Fred. What? "She says you need to talk to Sirius." _What?_

"What?" she demands, whipping around to face Harry.

"Yeah," Harry shrugs. Hermione narrow her eyes. "Yeah—I thought I'd like—"

"Don't be so ridiculous," she cuts him off. Merlin, she doesn't even want to hear the reason he's come up with. _Nothing_ could be worth the risks. Exposing Sirius _and_ risking expulsion? She can't believe he'd do such a thing. "With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?"

"Well," George says and Hermione _knows_ she's going to be angry with whatever comes out of his mouth next. "We think we can find a way around that."

"No," she says.

"'Mine…"

"_No!_" she snarls, and looks up at her boyfriend. "_You're_ already… We can't risk it. Harry could be expelled."

Fred's face softens. "He won't be, not with our plan. Will you let George finish?"

"It's a simple matter of causing a diversion," George says without giving Hermione a chance to agree. Even Katie has stopped any pretense of business and is giving her full attention to the situation at hand. "Now, you might have noticed that we've been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"

Fred sits forward as he takes over. "What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time? No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's studying too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do." He pulls Hermione into his side at that and reaches his hand to tug at a strand of her hair. She huffs and smacks his hand away from her curls.

"Aww," Katie coos. Hermione can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not. "Hermione, you really have changed him."

Hermione shakes her head. "If I'd had _any_ impact on him at all he wouldn't be putting this _absurd_ idea in Harry's head."

They keep planning anyways, despite Hermione's protest. Soon enough, they've got a time and place and way for Harry and Hermione… well, her nails are bitten significantly shorter by the end of the conversation.

They sit around for another hour, Ginny and Lee eventually joining their group, before George says that he's going up to bed. Fred starts to follow, but hesitates. "'Mine," he murmurs. "Meet me down here at two?"

Hermione wants to argue—tell him no, that she's upset with him and that she has class in the morning. So does he for that matter… technically. She knows he likely won't be attending class, but…

"Of course," she says. "I'll be down."

He smiles and stands, following George up the stairs to the boys' dorms.

She excuses herself shortly after. It's only nine, but she'd like to get some sleep.

*\

He's already waiting for her in the common room when she arrives, and she pauses only long enough to double check the emptiness of the room before she launches herself at him. "I love you," she says, straddling his lap. "But I'm angry at you and I swear to _Merlin_ if you get Harry expelled—"

"He'll be fine, he's not leaving you."

"He better not because if you're gone… I can't lose Harry, too."

Fred quirks an eyebrow and playfully asks, "do I have to worry about competition?"

She lets out an unattractive sounding snort at that and buries her face in the crook of his neck. She presses a kiss to the skin. "Not if I don't have to worry about you with your new found freedom," she teases. "Just remember me while I'm locked up in here."

"You won't give me a chance to forget you," he smirks, "not when my conscious has hired you on full-time."

"I hope I get a raise for all the work I'm going to be doing."

"Mmm," Fred hums, tilting his head to the side, and _Merlin_, does Hermione love him. "We can discuss it—"

She cuts him off with a kiss, one that she's been waiting to give since he had walked out of the common room only hours earlier. She misses at first, catching only the side of his bottom lip, but she's quick to remedy that mistake. When she rights herself, he immediately goes pliant beneath her, letting her guide them. Even from her spot across his lap she has to lean up on her knees to line their lips up properly, though neither of them mind. His hands go to her waist, fingers pressing gently on her back, and she feels her entire upper body relax, falling until it shapes itself against him.

There's a shift then, where Fred decides to take over. His hand comes up to the back of her neck, guiding her to a new angle and her takes her bottom lip between his teeth. After a short nip, his tongue comes out to trace the shallow indents and she pushes back—bumps her nose with his and weaves her fingers through his hair. He hums, light and happy, and then draws away. Hermione chases him for a short peck, and then relaxes back.

It's quiet after that—all Hermione can hear is her blood rushing and their harsh breathing. They stay like that for several minutes before Fred groans. She looks up at him in surprise. "What?"

"I won't be able to kiss you for two months," he says. "I'll barely be able to write to you. D'you think we have time to develop a code in the next… five hours? What about a hidden ink that only you or I can reveal?"

Hermione scowls. "It'd have been nice if you'd thought of this before." She shifts off of his lap so she's seated next to him. Tucking herself into his side, she thinks. "It wouldn't be too hard to modify invisible ink to reveal with a spell. Though it'd have to be immune to _revelio_. Umbridge is probably checking all letters with that."

"I could skive off classes tomorrow and figure it out," Fred offers. "I can't imagine it being too hard."

Hermione wants to say yes. It's her only hope of communication with Fred where she can openly speak about whatever they please. She sighs. "Are you considering going to classes tomorrow?"

"We're not sure. Probably not, but there's a chance."

"What does it depend on?" she asks.

Fred smirks. "If we get bored."

Hermione bites her lip, closes her eyes. "Why don't you and George attempt it? I—you're leaving, missing classes won't matter, right? _And_ if you're successful we can even use it for letters with Sirius, right? We could adapt it for letters for the Order as a whole."

"That's a good idea, too," he nods. He reaches over and grabs her hand and starts manipulating her fingers—something he does when he's bored or anxious. Hermione isn't sure which one it is now. "We might not be able to."

"Or you might figure it out." She flips her hand over in his hold and clasps his fingers in her hand. "It's… Even if you don't, at least we'll have tried. You definitely won't figure it out if you don't try though."

Fred hums. He squeezes her hand tighter, and then sinks down on the couch. And then he talks. He talks, and Hermione listens.

She listens to his plan for the next day, listens to their strategy and how he thinks it's going to go over. He tells her about their plans for the location in Diagon Alley, how they're hoping to be finished and stocked by the time Hogwarts lets out for summer break. He talks, and fills the room with words and holds Hermione tight to his side the entire time. At some point, she drifts to sleep.

*\

Fred slips into the seat next to her at lunch, places a bottle of ink in front of her, and grabs his wand.

"_Transuerio_," Fred says, and taps the bottle of ink. "Now, that ink will show if you use _evanesco_ and disappear if you use _revelio_."

"You actually did it?" Hermione gasps.

"He did," George mutters. "Woke me up at bloody six for it."

"At least we got to test our Liven Up Lemonade," Fred shrugs.

"Gotta work on the lasting effects of it," George says. He pulls a piece of parchment out of his bag and makes a note. "We can take another before we leave, yeah?"

"Yeah," Fred agrees. "Don't want to be flying for the barrier and fall asleep over the lake, no?"

"You're just going to Apparate once you get out of the wards, right?" Hermione asks.

George nods. "We like flying, but not eight hours of it."

*\

It's weird with them gone.

Hermione spends a lot of her time studying. O.W.L.s are just around the corner and she doesn't feel prepared. Alicia and Angelina are almost constantly by her side. She's not sure if it's because they're also studying with very few breaks, or if they're keeping an eye to make sure she _does_ get a few breaks.

The ink works surprisingly well. She's receiving letters from Fred, all with their seals broken, but none have been confiscated so far. According to his letters, all of hers have reached him as well.

Things are almost… _good_.

Of course, there's still the commonplace weirdness that exists just because it's _Hogwarts_ and her best friend is _Harry Potter_. Grawp is concerning, of course, but she feels like she can't let Hagrid down. She's able to get away with avoiding him for the time being, but eventually, she'll feel compelled to help.

It doesn't work out quite like she'd imagined.

Hagrid runs away, McGonagall is taken to St. Mungo's, and Hermione…

There's a lot to think about as she rides on the back of a thestral (or more accurately, hangs in the air because the thestral is _invisible_). She'd led a woman—a horrid, evil woman—to a cruel trap, one that could result in death. She'd abandoned an entire group of centaurs to a giant's mercy—or lack thereof. She's flying off to break into the Ministry.

She feels better at least that she's surrounded by her friends. Alicia, Lee, Angelina, and Katie had found the others and helped them escape Umbridge's office. They said it hadn't been hard to figure out where the garroting gas rumors had come from once they had noticed that Hermione and the others were absent from dinner.

It's all… _chaos_ after that.

At least, it is as long as Hermione is still aware.

There's a jet of purple light, though, and pain, like she's never felt it before.

"Oh," she says.

She had hoped her last words would have been better than that.

*\

When Hermione opens her eyes, she immediately wishes that she never woke up. There isn't a part of her that doesn't hurt, and her skin pressed against the bed and the sheet resting on top of her and the hair on her head all feel like knives. Her throat burns like maybe she swallowed a cheese grater, and every breath she takes is much harder on her lungs than it should be.

The last thing she remembers is the purple spell knocking into her and making every nerve ending burn like never before. In the moment before she lost consciousness, she had thought that she was dying. How had she _not?_

But, well. She had thought she was dying and she didn't, she can be thankful and refrain from questioning it.

At least she's alive.

At least she thinks that's an 'at least.'

She tries to shift but a searing pain travels down her abdomen and she cries out in shock.

"Hermione!" she hears a voice scream out from next to her. Before she can place who it is, a hand grabs her jaw and pries it open. Some sort of liquid is poured into her mouth and she's forced to swallow it. Before she can panic further, Madam Pomfrey's voice is soothing in her ear, promising that she's safe.

She falls asleep quickly after that.

*\

The next time she wakes up, she is able to appreciate the fact that she is still alive. There's still pain, but that pain is… bearable. It doesn't stop her from groaning.

"Hermione!"

She blinks her eyes open—though it's a struggle from how they've crusted over—and squints into the light.

The blinding light doesn't last long—at least not once something covers it. She turns her attention to the shadow and finds Madam Pomfrey is standing over her.

Madam Pomfrey proceeds to run test after test on her, and then hands her seven different vials, supporting Hermione's head and asking her to take a sip from each one. Hermione complies, wincing at multiple of the potions' tastes. When her head is resting against her pillow again, she turns to see Ron in the bed beside her, sitting up and staring at her with a nervous expression.

"Hi," she says—croaks.

"How are you?" Ron asks—demands.

Hermione tries to laugh, but it hurts her chest. "Really?"

"That's fair," he grimaces. "D'you remember what happened?"

"Dolohov. Hit me with something. What happened after? Is everyone okay?"

He nods. "I was attacked by a brain after that, so I've heard everyone else recount it, but the Order showed up and they were able to stretch them thin. Harry lost his marbles for a while and went after Bellatrix once she got out—she put Remus in St. Mungo's, which Alicia said was a lucky break. You-Know-Who showed up."

Hermione gasps "no!" and immediately regrets it. She groans and grabs her abdomen, taking in deep breaths to try and steady herself. After a minute or two it seems to be working, and Ron is watching her patiently from his bed.

"Everyone… survived? Even with—with—Voldemort?" It takes everything in her not to flinch—both because she needs to get used to this name for Harry and also because she thinks flinching would be very painful right now.

Ron flinches for her, however, and then nods. "Dumbledore was there. He's back as Headmaster and Umbridge is gone, by the way. Fudge and others showed up too, and now it's known that You-Know-Who is back."

"At least one good thing came out of this," she grumbles.

"Sure," Ron says, "consider yourself lucky that your parents will never understand the significance of breaking into the Ministry. Mum sent me _three_ howlers for that one. She hopes you feel better soon."

"You told your mum about me, too?" Hermione frowns, ignoring the way her heart drops when he mentions her parents. "What did you say?"

Ron gives her a look. "Only that you and I were both in the hospital wing recovering from the fight. It's not like she didn't know we went—the Order showed up."

"No, it's just… Fred and George. I didn't really want them to know, they can be a bit protective."

"Oh," Ron says. He shifts awkwardly in his bed, the way he tends to react whenever Hermione mentions either of the twins now. "Well, I didn't tell her how bad yours was."

"D'you know if the others have told them anything?"

Ron shakes his head. "They were in here visiting all of yesterday," Ron says. Hermione's face must show her confusion, because he goes on to explain, "it's Saturday. You were out all of yesterday."

"Oh."

"It didn't sound like they were going to write? I told them I had written my family and told them you were in with me."

"Alright," she says, and the tension in her shoulders releases.

"Actually," he frowns, "do you like sugar quills? Fred and George sent me a bunch of chocolate frogs and sugar quills but I don't like sugar quills much, and they know that."

Hermione laughs. "They're my favorite."

"Oh, good. I thought maybe they were being prats, or even forgetting me now that we don't see each other every bloody day," he laughs. He tosses her a sugar quill, which she quickly unwraps and sucks on.

It isn't long after she finishes the candy that there's a loud rumbling of conversation approaching the back of the infirmary where she and Ron are. She recognizes Alicia's voice first, and the rest fall into place after that. She sits up straight, wincing at the sharp pain that tears through her abdomen. She gasps, causing Ron to shoot up in his bed. "Hermione?" he yells.

The voices quiet and instead of casual conversation she now hears an entire group of feet smacking on the ground as they run. She's got one hand pressed to her stomach while the other one waves Ron off. "I'm fine," she says. "Moved too fast."

"'Mione!" Alicia yelps upon seeing her. "What're you doing? You're supposed to be lying down!"

Hermione scoffs, even through her grinding teeth. "Sure, you try laying on your back for 36 hours," she snarks. "I would guess that being so still is half of the reason I'm sore right now."

She doesn't actually think that, but she also doesn't want to be flat on her back while her friends are visiting. She—well, she feels vulnerable and weak already. Of course she can trust these people, but she doesn't like them _seeing_ her vulnerable and weak. Especially not Neville, Luna, Lee, Harry, and Ron.

Alicia rolls her eyes. "At least let me help?"

Just as Alicia knows not to argue when Hermione has made up her mind, Hermione knows the battles to pick against Alicia. This is not one she will win, so she sighs, reaching out for her friend.

Once she's sitting up (getting a side-eye from Madam Pomfrey when she passes), the entire group begins to recount the series of events. Ron didn't miss much, honestly. The group simply tells the story in more detail, and the only way Hermione makes it through the recount is knowing that everyone is safe.

"Fred wrote and said that he had written your parents so you don't need to worry about that. Dumbledore probably did as well, but Fred wanted to reiterate that you were okay," Alicia tells her.

Hermione frowns. She had thought to ask her parents last year to set up a box at the local post for their owl mail when they changed their names. She hopes that Dumbledore doesn't expect some sort of response. She might have to write Fred and ask him to check it.

They start fussing after that—asking Hermione questions about how she's feeling, what the curse did, how it felt. She tries her best not to roll her eyes, but from the fond look on Alicia's face, she's sure she's failed.

She opens another sugar quill and thinks that, despite everything, she's happy to be exactly where she is.

*\

Hermione takes advantage of the chaos from the Order speaking with Harry's uncle and hooks her arms through Fred and George's, dragging them off with her.

"I need your help," she says.

George's eyebrows knit together. "Anything, you know that. Just name it."

"I need somewhere to hide for a few weeks, so I don't raise too much suspicion about heading straight to the Burrow. I was going to ask Alicia but Merlin knows she'd want to know why I wasn't with my parents. You two are the only ones who know and I want to keep it that way. I thought maybe—if you have a friend who has space? Angelina and Katie are out of the question for the same reason as Alicia, but maybe Lee? Oliver?"

The twins look at each other. Fred tilts his head, George nods. They look back at her. "Stay with us."

"I can't, the Bur—"

"We've moved out," Fred says.

"We live above the shop now—much easier, much closer. We're working so much that it's not worth it to use Floo powder all the way to the Burrow just to sleep and back every day," George explains. "We only have two bedrooms but…"

"We can either share, or George and I can share."

Hermione bites her lip. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," George says. "You might be able to keep Fred in line."

"Or your presence might make _this one_ a little more tidy," Fred shoots back. "We're not letting you go somewhere you'd be uncomfortable or feel unwelcome. If you'd be uncomfortable with us that's—"

"No," she says. "No. That sounds perfect."

* * *

_As always, I have TONS of notes over on AO3. _

_The three most important things to say: _

_\- my beta is incredible.  
\- the first scene of this chapter is the first scene ever written of this fic, and is what prompted me to write this entire AU. I apologize if you don't like the change.  
\- thank you. _


	6. wish i was there with you now

_Hello! Me again. _

* * *

_**book vi.**_

Living with the twins is a weird situation.

Hermione and Fred decide to share his room (and bed, and closet, and _everything_) since they already have limited time together. It's something new to get used to, but that's not the weird situation.

The weird situation is eating breakfast with them, passing the salt, brushing her teeth, washing the dishes, and more. She's been doing it for years between Hogwarts and the Burrow but the environment is so incredibly different now—just her, Fred, and George—that it seems surreal half the time. It feels like a dream that she's moments away from waking up from.

But the actual waking up—waking up next to Fred—is refreshing. There's been so much stress in her life that creating this routine (this lovely, new routine) has been entirely enjoyable.

The situation isn't perfect though.

Her parents fought, she'd heard Molly and Arthur fight, and she knew that living with Fred, there would be fights. They'd had them before, but this would be different. There would be no storming off to hide in their rooms or with their other friends. No pretending it's not happening. No walking away and leaving it for later.

It is different, and they learn early on just how different it will be.

It's small stuff, really, that Hermione had never thought of.

Fred doesn't own a hamper. After a lengthy argument about a specific corner of the room _not_ being the same as a hamper, Fred huffs, grabs an old, torn shirt, and transfigures it into a hamper, with the tears still in tact. Still, it's better than nothing, at least until she realizes that half of his clothes don't make it in at the end of the day, and Hermione grumbles about it every morning.

Which is another thing—Hermione is a morning person, while Fred is not. He is so much not a morning person that he and George don't even open shop until 11. Fred tells her it's because no one is going to be buying pranks at 8 am, but Hermione suspects they just prefer being able to wake at 10:30. She's left sitting alone for hours on end in the sitting room, and while it's a good opportunity to read ahead for next year, it's quite lonely. Fred simply suggests she sleeps in a bit later, and offers her a Sleepy Sweet.

She's accidentally had one already though because the twins leave pranks lying around in the most frustrating places—including the refrigerator ("_it needs to be kept cold!_"), in the shower ("_it's a hair color changing topical, I needed to make sure it worked!"_), and in her bed ("_wait! Hermione, don't it'll explo—! Alright, I know you're upset, but I can explain, I had a stroke of genius last night and—_").

Even more, it's harder to hide things from one another, which are equally as likely to start an argument.

Hermione finds this out mere days into her stay when she's taking her potion and gags. "You'd think they'd be kinder with the taste of potions when you almost die; this is absolutely awful."

Which was the wrong thing to say, even though it had been an off-handed comment, because: "WHAT DO YOU BLOODY MEAN YOU ALMOST DIED?"

Hermione sips at the potion and frowns, rethinks her previous wording. "It was a joke—I simply meant that they should be more considerate to those who are ill and make potions taste better. I did not nearly die."

Fred glares from where he stands on the other side of the dining room table. "Really? Should I go ahead and pop over and speak with Ron and Harry and ask what happened to you?"

"No, you should trust me."

"I _do_ trust you," he says, "with a lot of things. I also trust that I know you, and I can hear what you don't say, and I don't trust you to not down play the fact that you almost died." He grabs one of her potions and examines it. "What would happen if you stopped taking those potions?"

"I wouldn't recover as fast," she shrugs. After a moment, she adds, "and my taste buds would thank me."

"Or wouldn't you recover as _well?_ Or at all?"

"I don't _know_, Fred. Madam Pomfrey told me to take them, so I'm taking them."

"How bad was it? Ron told Mum you both were in the infirmary, but he didn't say anything about how you were doing. You didn't write me until _days_ later, so I was worrying over… you're trying to tell me I was worrying over nothing?"

Hermione tilts her chin up and pulls her shoulders back. As she stands taller, she looks into Fred's eyes and nods. "Yes."

"Then why didn't you write me right away? 'Mine, I'm the only one who knows about your parents—"

"George knows, too."

He glares. "I'm the only one who knows about your parents and—'Mine, I don't want to put it this way because you're my girlfriend, not my child, but you're my responsibility now."

"I am my _own_ responsibility, actually." She backs away from him and picks up another potion. It's purple, and she knows it's going to taste like she imagines a chalkboard would. She frowns at it, and debates for a moment—just a moment—if it's really worth it or not. Fred's presence behind her reminds her that _all_ of these potions are worth it. She downs it.

Fred comes up behind her and puts his hands on her hips. "But you're sixteen, 'Mine. It isn't reasonable, not at the moment."

"I could find hotels," she argues. "I could find ways to be independent."

Fred sighs. "Okay. How long could you afford one? For the next two years?"

"For long enough. I have an entire uni fund that I transferred to Gringott's, Fred."

"Was I just not worth a letter right away then? Did you just choose to live with George and I because we're more convenient than a hotel?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, please." She takes a breath, and turns in his hold. "I chose to live with you because I love you, and because I'm _safe_ with you. You've been the place I feel most safe for years now, Fred. I could just as well told Alicia, or Ange, or Katie, but I didn't because I trust _you_ above everyone else, above anything else."

"Then why can't you tell me the truth?"

Hermione stares up at him, unblinking. He stares back, challenging. She sighs. "I wasn't conscious. The first 38 hours I was unconscious, recovering." Fred whines, high in his throat, but Hermione doesn't pause. "I was hit by an unknown curse and I had internal bleeding. I don't know how severe it was, I just know that it hurt, and Madam Pomfrey took care of me, okay?"

"You should have _told_ me," he says. His voice is too loud and too sharp for Hermione. She walks towards him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Fred…"

"_Hermione_," he snaps back.

Hermione puts her hands on his shoulders. They're tight under her touch. "We're not going to discuss this if you can't calm down."

"But—"

"Fred," Hermione says again, taking the potion he'd grabbed out of her hand earlier and set it down gently, "can't we just—look. I'm _not_ dead. I'm here, alive and well, and I love you."

"But why didn't you _tell_ me?" he wonders, and his voice cracks. She doesn't exactly know if he's _calm_, but he's not gearing up for a fight anymore.

She sighs. "I was in the process of healing by the time I woke up. I knew I'd be okay, so I didn't want to worry you."

"I'm constantly worried about you and I'm alright with that. I only don't want to have to worry about you once we're out of this war," he tells her. She doesn't think he knows what he's saying, but he carries on, "and even then, I still want to just not as much as I have to now. Right now, I want to worry about you, 'Mine. I love you and I know you're out there doing dangerous stuff. Worrying about you keeps me sane, even if it's worrying about you when you're on the mend. It's the only thing I can control."

Hermione smiles and takes a step closer to Fred. Her hands find his and she twines their fingers together. "How's that work, then? I've never known you to be sane in the first place."

"Oh, you know, a little bit of you as my conscious, a little bit of concern about the war, and a lot of fretting about my girlfriend," he shrugs. Hermione looks up at him and giggles, and he grins down at her. He drops her hands and wraps his arms around her shoulders to pull her in. She adjusts so her arms are wrapped around his waist now, and puts her cheek on his chest.

"I love you, too," she says. His arms tighten around her.

"Well thank Merlin for that, would've been embarrassing of me to say otherwise," he teases.

She moves her head so her chin is resting on his chest now, and stares up at him. "Completely embarrassing," she agrees. He looks down at her, and their eyes meet. "Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me love you."

Fred moves her back, just enough so that he's able to kiss her. "Thank _you_."

It's quiet for a long moment and then—"Fred?"

"Hm?"

"I'll try to be better."

Fred pulls away and pushes her shoulders back. "'Mine, all I'm asking for is your trust."

"And you have it," she says. She turns around and fiddles with the label of one of her potions bottles. "But this is _new_ to me, do you understand that? My parents… I never got to tell them about this kind of stuff. The only thing they ever _really_ understood was when I was petrified, and that wasn't by my choice, y'know? They almost didn't let me go back to school after that, and… It's not that I don't trust you, Fred. It's that I've never had anyone to trust about these things before."

"You have me now. And I'll try to be better, too."

So, living with them is different. So, they fight.

She still feels like the luckiest witch.

*\

Hermione doesn't spend much time at the shop. Not only is the shop overwhelming, but Lee is working with the twins a few days a week, too. She tries not to run into him more than a few times, so he won't get suspicious. She spends most of her time at Flourish and Blotts' and one of the second-hand book shops, sometimes branching off to visit a quill and parchment shop or the apothecary to help keep Fred and George's supplies stocked.

Alicia owls her less than a week after break begins asking to meet at Diagon Alley and Hermione grins as she writes her response. Two days later, she's at lunch with Alicia at a small, family run café just a few shops away from the twins' shop.

Alicia has been talking so much that while Hermione's plate is empty, Alicia still has over half of her food left. Hermione can't blame Alicia—Oliver is at Quidditch camp for the summer, and her parents are off in the States on assignment. Even through letters, it's hard to say everything that can be said, so Hermione is glad to be there to be a much-needed listener for her friend.

They just finish talking about what Alicia's parents might be getting up to when Alicia asks, "how're your parents, then?" She sets down her drink and smiles up at Hermione.

Hermione freezes. She feels awful to say this, but she hasn't thought of her parents all day. Maybe even in a few days. Fred and George and her books keep her busy enough, and she's decided that she can't linger on the pain. The mention of them, though, oh. It tears away the scabbing spell and reopens the wound and she can tell by the way Alicia's face falls that Hermione has given herself away.

"'Mione," her friend murmurs. "What's going on?"

"I did something," she says, reluctant to spill her secret, but knowing that hiding it away won't make it any less real.

Alicia frowns. "You… _did_ something?"

"They weren't safe, y'know? V-Vol—You-Know-Who came back and they weren't safe, so I made them safe." Without Harry around, her propensity to say Voldemort's full name vanishes. Harry may need it to keep mental games away, but Hermione does not—especially not in such a public place, where anyone could be listening to her.

Alicia is quiet for a moment and then—"Hermione, what did you do?"

She picks at the soiled napkin on the edge of her plate. She squeezes her eyes shut and breathes out, "I modified their memories."

"_Hermione!_" Alicia gasps. "Do you know how dangerous—_you're sixteen!_"

"I did it last summer. They're long gone."

"No, please be joking. Merlin, I'm going to have _words_ with Fred and George if you're joking—"

"I'm not joking, Alicia."

"How? You're underage, that'd take complicated magic that'd be dangerous for you to perform—"

"You sound like Fred," Hermione huffs, falling back into her seat.

"_Fred_ knows?"

"He's my best friend!"

"So am I!"

"I'm staying with him! He _had_ to know!"

"You're _what?_"

Hermione groans and drops her head. "Fred confronted me about it. He knew something was wrong last year, which is understandable because we were still… new. We spent more time with each other than anyone else, so he realized it when even you didn't, and once he figured out something was wrong he spent even more time with me. I'm sorry that I hid it from you. I just… When we got off the train I told them I need their help finding somewhere to stay. He offered to let me stay with him and George. I didn't think anyone else needed to know."

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped, I could have been there for you—"

"Because it _hurts_." Her voice comes out strangled, but. She _is_ hurt. It's been a year and it still hurts like nothing she's ever felt before, not even Dolohov's curse. She felt like she could live through that, even if she'd have to fight. But with her parents… there are some days when there's a hole in her chest so gaping that it feels like it might swallow her whole. Days where she can't breathe properly and feels that maybe she'll never be able to again. It's not a pain that's faded. It's just a pain that's changed. "I'm not sorry that I did it. My parents are safe. If anything happens to me—"

"Don't say that."

"—_if anything happens to me_ they won't have to go through losing me. My parents can live a happy life, where they never had a witch as a daughter. And I don't have to constantly worry about whether or not Death Eaters are going to use them as bait for me. If we make it through this I have an idea how and where to find them."

Alicia sighs. "Okay. I'm sorry I reacted like that, 'Mione, I just—you're my best friend and I don't like not being able to help you."

Hermione bites her lip. She picks up her napkin, balls it up, and tosses it at her friend. "There's probably a lot coming up that you can't help me with, you know?"

"Don't remind me," Alicia says, knocking the napkin away and flopping back into her chair dramatically. "I'm really meant to just let you go off to Hogwarts this year with only Katie and Ginny to keep you from Harry Potter's antics?"

"Those antics aren't Harry's fault—you know that."

"I need someone to blame," Alicia teases.

"You-Know-Who is a good option," Hermione tells her.

Alicia grimaces, but ultimately agrees. "Fine. But I fully expect honest updates about what's going on with you at school. Keep me in the loop and Harry gets a free pass, deal?"

Hermione laughs. "Deal."

*\

Lee is the next to find out, even before Alicia can send an owl to Angelina and Katie like Hermione agreed to.

Hermione brings Alicia back to the shop, and leaves her to take the tour with Fred while she runs up to grab a book she'd promised to let Alicia borrow.

Hermione reaches up and presses a kiss to Fred's cheek, tells him, "I'm running up to our room for a book, please don't terrorize her too much."

From behind her, she hears "_our room?_" and her shoulders slump.

Hermione leans into Fred, who looks like he's about to concoct some sort of lie to tell Lee, but Hermione is just—she's more tired than she is hurt right now. She wants this to be over, but for the time being, it can't be. So instead, she shakes her head. "You can tell him just… not around me, please. Alicia knows, too."

"Are you sure?" Fred asks, staring down at her, concern bright in his eyes.

"I'm sure." And then she flits through the store, away from the pitying looks, away from the compassionate tones. Away.

"You're absolutely positive that no magic went into that—that _film?_" Fred asks, looking back at the cinema with wide eyes.

Hermione tosses her head back and laughs. "Well, it was Disney, and they like to think magic is all around us."

"Because magic _is_ all around us!" he cries softly, whipping around to face Hermione. "But—but this is _muggle_ technology, how did they—"

"It's called animation," she tells him, and his eyes grow wide.

"_We_ do animation in transfiguration!"

Hermione grins. She reaches over to grab his hand and squeezes. "Very good. We absolutely do. _Animate_ is bringing life to things. Remember that table fight you, George, Bill, and Charlie had a few years ago? That was a good example of animation."

"But then _how_—"

"Animated movies are bringing life to pictures."

"That's easy, though."

Hermione squeezes his hand again. "It's easy with _magic_. For muggles, they have to go through and draw each frame and then put them all together and show them really fast, one after the other."

Fred stops walking, and the suddenness of it tugs Hermione's arm and jerks her back. Fred is staring at her with furrowed eyebrows and a deep frown. "Isn't that time consuming?"

"Well, yes," Hermione walks back to him. "But like you and George spend a lot of time on your products to make people smile, so do these people."

"Oh," he says. "'Mine? What kind of name is Quasimodo?"

Hermione lets her laughter ring out loud around the parking lot.

Merlin, she loves him.

*\

Evenings are most often spent with Fred and George in the main room of the flat.

When she lived largely in the muggle world, she spent much of her time in the evenings sat in front of televisions. Now, televisions were no more, and she couldn't even say that she missed them.

Each night, they'd settle in to either play a game, talk, read, or work on some of the twins' products.

Tonight, they're working on a new product.

Sneaking Shoes—meant for ultimate stealth. They both hide the sounds of your footsteps and also your tracks.

Except through mud.

"You've made it _too_ hydrophobic," Hermione argues, watching as George presses the shoe to the conjured mud again. "That might help in the snow, but in the mud the water is repelling at the contact and—"

"And leaving a trail of dried dirt in its place," George finishes, frowning down at the clear as day print. "So how do we solve it?"

Fred looks up from his book, and fires a suggestion and George, who counters back with an immediate issue he's thought of. Back and forth they go until finally George jumps up and screams "_oh!_"

"_Yes!_" Fred cheers, and then Hermione is left alone, while the two of them sprint over to their book shelves, pulling out two of the spell theory books, and their respective journals.

Hermione stays in her place, picks up the shoe and passes it hand from hand.

Watching them, she can't picture them at work. She understands that's what this is—this is their business. But she can't see that.

A long time ago, Hermione asked her parents why they chose to be dentists.

Her father told her that making people smile was his favorite thing, and since he couldn't be a comedian, dentistry was his next best option. Her mum said that she loved what she did, and that she chose it because she felt like she never had to go to work.

Hermione never understood that. At the end of a hard day, the feeling of exhaustion is what made Hermione feel giddy. _Work_ made Hermione feel powerful—it made her feel accomplished. She couldn't imagine finding a job where she went every day to repeat the same task over and over to get the same results. She needed a challenge. She needed to _work_.

Watching Fred and George, Hermione thinks that she finally understands.

They're still working, and she knows from experience that Fred will go to bed tonight, eyelids heavy and purple by lassitude. He's going to smile when she asks what they've figured out, and he's going to tell her about it in detail, adding excited gesticulations and with zeal in his voice. When they beta test the product, he'll cheer, and he'll hug Hermione and kiss her forehead before running off to celebrate his success with George. And when they release the product, he'll watch on with pride as customer after customer line up to buy the latest and greatest Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product.

Fred has worked everyday, but he's never had to go to work.

Hermione finally thinks that maybe that's what she wants, too.

*\

"You have ten boxes of waffles," Hermione says, staring into the freezer.

George looks up from his place at the table and nods. "Yeah, we ran out, I just went shopping. Why, do you need room for something? I can move some of those into the freeze box downstairs?"

Hermione blinks. "Why do you have ten boxes of waffles?"

"We have a waffle every morning," Fred shrugs.

She turns to look at the both of them. "_How_ is that healthy? To eat waffles every day of your life?"

"Not every day," George says.

"Just the days we work," Fred finishes.

"That's still five days a week for the both of you!"

"We work a lot," George shrugs.

Fred nods. "And still play Quidditch whenever we're at Mum and Dad's."

Hermione shakes her head. "And you _like_ waffles that much?"

"Oh!" Fred scoffs. He stands up and walks over to her and ruffles her hair. "Says Miss Three-Chocolate-Chip-Waffles-A-Day."

"They only served those a few times a month!"

"They served them _for_ you. _Specifically for_ you."

"And that was very kind of them," she says, relenting. "But why do you need ten boxes at once? Why not just a few boxes?"

George winks. "There was a sale."

"That's no ex—hang on, what's that?" Hermione asks, staring at the copy of the Daily Prophet in George's hands.

George frowns, and looks down at the paper. "The… Daily Prophet?"

"No," Hermione shakes her head. "I mean—yes, but… this bridge. Why are wizards reporting on a bridge that doesn't affect us?"

_Brockdale Bridge: Broken or Beaten?_

Fred grabs the paper and reads through the article below the picture. "There's suspected Death Eater involvement, and that's even with_out_ a confirmations from the Ministry. If it was large enough that the Prophet published it…"

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Hermione asks. It's a ridiculous question. She didn't send her parents away for _fun_, after all, but sometimes… Sometimes it doesn't seem so looming. So present. So absolute. Sometimes, she's able to forget for just a few minutes, maybe even hours, that she and everyone she loves are in grave danger.

Fred and George make it easy. They make it easy to live in the moment, to laugh even knowing there's darkness out there. They make her confident that everything will be okay, even though that is decidedly not the case. The Wizarding World could cease to exist as it does in a matter of days, weeks, months, years. They're meant to be on high alert and while Hermione _is_ on high alert… she's also trying to live.

"We've always been in trouble," George says, finally. "But I think, yeah. We're in trouble."

Hermione thinks there's going to be a lot of changes.

She's trying to live, yes.

But she's also trying to stay alive.

*\

"I shouldn't have set up a time with your mum before summer started," Hermione whispers into the dark once she's sure Fred is awake. It's the morning she's leaving and she wishes with all her might that she could postpone her departure for much, much later. "Had I known I'd be staying with you… I would've… I mean, if you wouldn't have minded—"

She feels Fred smile against the side of her neck. "I would keep you here all summer if I could."

"Yes, but I had to go and ruin that," Hermione says. She can't believe that she has to say good-bye, even though she'll be seeing him, still… It won't be like the past few weeks. Hermione had taken the past several years for granted. Having the twins at Hogwarts, seeing them every day of the year except for summers. Now, it'll be the opposite for the next two years, and she wouldn't even see them much over the summers. She didn't know when she'd get to be with them—Fred in particular—like this again. She could spend Christmas and summer vacation with them so long Mrs. Weasley remains unaware about her parents, but with Voldemort getting closer, is that wise?

"I love you," he says. "And one day you won't be here for a few weeks. You'll be here for good."

"You're going to kidnap me?" she teases.

"Definitely," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her neck. He rolls over so he's on top of her, pressing her in to the mattress, and grins. "The moment you're done at that bloody school, you're _mine_."

"We should probably actually _tell_ your family about us before that."

Fred groans and rolls off of her. "As excited as I am to love you and to be loved by you, Mum gets a bit… much. She barely let me breathe over Christmas break when you showed up and she figured it out. I'm going to marry you, but I don't want her to do it for me, before either of us are ready, and Merlin forbid she finds out we spent this time together _before_ we were married. Once Mum has permission to actually _talk _about it, we're doomed."

"Marriage?" Hermione asks. She turns on her side to face him and curls a hand around his neck. "That's where this is headed?"

He reaches up to grab her hand and looks at her, furrowing his eyebrows. "Were you _not_ thinking that?"

"I wasn't," she admits. "But now that you've said it…"

He waits, but honestly, Hermione isn't sure what to say from there. She thinks that it's obvious. Where else would this relationship be heading? She knows that she's in love with Fred and she knows that she always wants to be by his side. So long she has the opportunity to be there, that's where she'll choose to be.

She's always known she _wanted_ to have a family—a husband, kids, maybe a few cats or even a dog. It's been in the back of her head since she understood what a family was—a group of people surrounding you that loves you for who you are. And of course she's already surrounded by a wonderful family that she's found, but beyond that? She wants that.

Fred squeezes her hand gently. "Now that I've said it, what? You think I'm mad?" he teases, leaning forward to peck her lips. He reaches out his arms to grab her, and pulls her on top of his chest. She yelps, but relaxes into the hard muscle of his chest without a fight. "Or, do you think I'm utterly brilliant?"

"A bit of both, really," she laughs. She leans down to kiss him. When she pulls back, she brings a hand up to caress his face. She traces beneath his eye with her thumb. "Marriage has always seemed so far off. My entire childhood I thought I'd never find anyone mad enough to marry me. Luckily, I met you." Beneath her thumb the skin rises as he grins. She smiles back. "You were the first person who made me feel like I belonged somewhere. And I think I belong next to you for the rest of my life."

Fred pushes up so quickly that her hand is knocked to the side, but their lips are connected and his hands are in her hair and she's holding on to his shoulders tightly. It's so different from before—and so new—but so good, so wonderful.

He rolls them over and presses her to the mattress again, and she'll never tire of the feeling of being pressed against him—will never tire of the feeling of being kissed or touched or held by him.

She doesn't want to say good-bye, but if nothing else, at least she gets a good good-bye.

*\

Hermione blinks at the scene surrounding her.

Normally when she floos in, she enters an empty, quiet room, or a room where the Weasleys are waiting calmly for her.

This time, she falls into a screaming match between Ginny and Ron.

"—but it doesn't matter, because _your_ opinion doesn't count!" Ginny snarls, and Hermione almost falls back into the fireplace at the ferocity of her voice.

Ron scoffs. "What, because I actually like being around her?"

"You don't!" she shrieks. "You're—_tricked!_ You can't even speak around her, Ronald, you cannot convince me you enjoy her company. You enjoy her face."

"Ginevra! Ronald!" Molly yells, stomping into the room.

"_What?_" both the siblings scream in unison.

"We don't fight, especially not in front of guests, you know this."

Ginny whips her head around. "Guests? 'Mione!"

Hermione doesn't have enough time to recover from her shock, so when Ginny slams into her, they both nearly fall back into the fire. Instead, Hermione knocks her head on the mantle.

Ginny pulls back from the hug quick once she hears the crack. "Oh! 'Mione, I'm so—"

"It's fine, it's alright!" Hermione says, wincing. "Don't you worry, just surprised me is all."

"You hit your head," Ginny frowns.

She rubs the back of her head. "Yes," she says, "and I'm sure your mum can help with that in no time at all."

"Of course, dear!" Molly says, already hurrying over to where Ginny is holding Hermione up—needlessly at that. But the back of her head _is_ radiating with pain, so she's more than happy to let Molly whisper a spell that makes that pain slowly fade until there's nothing but a small ache left at the center.

When it's done, Hermione turns around with a smile. "Thank you, Mrs—"

"Molly, dear."

"Molly."

"Of course!" Molly smiles, pulling Hermione in for a crushing hug. When she releases her she looks to Ginny and makes a shooing motion towards Hermione's suitcase. "Now, why don't you have Ginevra show you to your room so you can get ready before dinner?"

"Oh, alright," Hermione nods, looking between the two female Weasleys with a nod. "That'd be wonderful."

Ginny grins, grabs Hermione's suitcase, and darts towards the steps, leaving Hermione hurrying to follow. Ginny waits at the landing of the first floor, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Now, Mum said you could stay in Percy's room—or I've still got the cot in my room—"

"Would you mind…?"

"Not at _all!_" Ginny bounces harder. "C'mon, you know the way!"

*\

With the enthusiastic agreement from the youngest Weasley, she opts to stay in Ginny's room. Over the past two and a half weeks, she's become entirely too used to Fred's snuffling in his sleep, and she doesn't think she could sleep in silence.

She also worries that she'll struggle to sleep without his warmth, but that's an easier hurdle, she hopes.

Ginny and Ron are down stairs helping Molly prepare for dinner, so the knock on her door surprises her.

"Come in," she calls as she reaches down into her suitcase. She pulls out a neatly folded top, unfolds it, and then folds it neatly in four and then places it next to her on the bed.

When she looks up, she sees Bill walking in, and she has to work at keeping the shock off her face. He grins at her. "Hello, Hermione."

"Hello, Bill. How've you been?" she asks as she takes another shirt from her suitcase, unfolds it, and then refolds it.

"Well, thank you. How about you?"

"Good, thank you. Can I help you with something?"

Bill crosses the room and sits on Ginny's bed. He's quiet for a moment, and watches Hermione refold yet another shirt. "I was told that you heard about my engagement."

"For all intents and purposes," Hermione nods. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he smiles. "I hope you don't mind much, but Fleur will be staying here with me for a week or two. Mum and the others don't understand her much yet, but I hope if they have some time to get to know her…"

"Bill, of course I don't mind. This isn't my house, I'm as much of a guest as she will be."

He grins. "Now, we know that's not true. You're an honorary Weasley at this point, Hermione. Would be even if you weren't dating Freddie."

Hermione freezes as she's reaching for another shirt. It's the first time someone outside her friend group has blatantly brought up their relationship and to have it be _Bill_ of all people… She takes in a deep breath. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you with that."

"No, I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head side to side in attempt to clear it. "I—I know more people know about Fred and me, I'm just not entirely used to discussing it. I also never thought that I'd be getting a talk from my boyfriend's older brother."

"Oh! No! Not at all. Actually, I gave Fred that talk. You're a smart girl, Hermione. Remus and Sirius like to call you the _brightest witch of your age_," Bill tells her, and she's surprised to hear a hint of pride in his voice. She watches him shift on the bed. "I know that if you hurt my brother, he's probably going to deserve it, or it'll be out of your control. I'd appreciate if you didn't, but I can understand if you have to."

"I'm sorry," Hermione shakes her head, "and now I've gotten us entirely off track. What did you—"

"Fleur," he says. "What do you think about my plan for my family to get to know Fleur?"

Hermione snorts. "I think by the end of it Ron might be trying to marry her as well."

"He's already trying," Bill grins.

"That doesn't bother you?"

He shakes his head. Slowly, he sits back on his hands and looks across the room at her. "Fleur isn't going to fit in with my family well at first. She'll try to understand them, but she won't. Ron's probably going to be the only one to try with her, and we've all seen how well his conversations with her turn out. But Fleur and my family… they're too different. Charlie gets on with her great over their letters, since Fleur is fascinated by his work, but Mum is set in her opinions. She formed her opinions about Fleur years ago, so now we have a year to try and reshape them. I'm sure you understand what Mum is like." She doesn't want to agree, but according to the grimace on her face, Bill sees it anyways. "Exactly, right? She's a wonderful mum, but she's pretty unwavering. Bringing someone into this family is rough. You were already part of the family so Fred had an easy enough time. Mum couldn't stop talking about it once she found out. But Fleur? Fleur will be fighting against a family who doesn't know her, doesn't understand her, and who aren't entirely willing to take the time to get to know or understand her."

"I'm sure that your other siblings will help your Mum get to know her."

"Maybe, if Ginny hadn't already formed her opinion as well. And Fred and George won't be serious long enough to form their own opinion, nor have they been around enough."

Hermione narrows her eyes. "You want me to help Fleur."

"_Well_—"

"D'you forget that your mum can decide to not like me again, too? She's made that decision many times before!"

"Maybe just with Ginny and the twins? And just—maybe talk to Fleur? If you get to know her, the others might follow," Bill says, pleading.

She sighs. "I'm not bringing her up to your mother, not once."

"That's alright," he grins. "_Thank you_, Hermione."

"Don't thank me," she shakes her head. "If you want to marry her, she must be a good person."

"She's the best. Sometimes she just makes that hard to see." Bill pushes himself off Ginny's bed and crosses the room to sit on Hermione's bed. He curls an arm around her and pulls her into his side in a casual hug, and grins. "I appreciate it, Hermione."

Bill takes his leave shortly after. At dinner, only half an hour later, Hermione looks from the place next to Ginny at one end of the table, and the place next to Fleur at the other end. She only hesitates for a moment before choosing to sit beside Fleur, earning herself a disbelieving look from Ginny.

"So, Fleur," Hermione begins, grabbing a dish of potatoes and plopping a spoonful on her plate, "I heard you're working at Gringott's? Is that how you reconnected with Bill?"

Fleur turns to her, surprise clear in her eyes. "Eh—oui! I came 'ere as I wanted to work on my Eenglish. Gringott's offered me a part-time job in protection and security. We worked with ze curse breakers on one of ze vaults and Bill was there."

Bill leans forward to look at Hermione around his fiancée. "She recognized me as Harry's friend—"

"I recognized you as you," Fleur says, and there's a sharp note to her voice. Hermione thinks she's teasing him if the look on her face is anything to go by. "He was ze only person I knew, and he was very kind in helping me out."

Hermione smiles. "Well, congratulations on the engagement."

"Oui, merci! We shall be seesters one day, no?"

Hermione's eyes go wide from surprise. Her face flames. "I—"

Bill puts a hand on Fleur's shoulder. She turns to him, whipping around with wide, upset eyes. "Fleur, Hermione is still young, they don't know—"

"Probably," Hermione says, lifting her head, cutting Bill off. Fleur turns back to her and starts to smile, but it's smaller, and only seems to grow fractionally once Bill's hand is gone from her shoulder. Hermione understands that the woman didn't mean any harm by the question; she's just a blunt person, and likely still doesn't know routes to avoid that bluntness in English. She thinks she understands Bill's concern, now. "Anything could happen, but I'd like that."

She'd like to marry Fred, really. If that means that Fleur is her sister-in-law, she doesn't think she'd mind one bit.

*\

"Who else is here, now?" Ginny asks, side eyeing a new looking trunk off to the side in the kitchen.

"Hm?" Molly asks, working over a skillet full of bacon strips. She flicks her wand to flip all of them, and then looks to what Ginny is referring to. "Oh, Harry made it in last night—"

Ron spits his food out of his mouth and jumps out of his seat. "_What?_"

"Ronald!" Molly scolds. "Clean that up!"

Ron reaches forward blindly, still staring at his mother, scooping up the remains of his chewed up hash. "Well, where is he?"

"He's stay in Fred and George's old room, but he only—Ronald! Oh, I swear that boy—"

Hermione doesn't bother listening to the rest of Molly's words, she follows Ron up the stairs where he barges into the twins' old room, the door slamming against the wall with a resounding _crack!_

Ron rushes into the room, Hermione more subdued behind him. Harry mumbles something, and then Ron—

"Ron, don't hit him!"

Harry gets his glasses and fixes them upon his face and then looks at his two friends with a smile. Ron grins widely. "All right?" he asks.

"Never better," Harry answers, nursing the top of his head where Ron had smacked him earlier. "You?"

Ron grabs a box and drags it over, dropping down to sit on it so he's more level with his friend. "Not bad. When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!"

"About one o'clock this morning," Harry says.

"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?"

"Same as usual." Harry shrugs. Hermione frowns, and takes a seat at the corner of the bed. "The didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she says. "I actually just got to stop my potions last week."

"That's great," Harry smiles. "Feeling all right, then?"

"Much better. What were you up to last night, then? Why'd you get in so late?"

"Oh, right," Harry sits up straighter, "Dumbledore needed my help."

"With what?" Ron asks.

"Getting a professor for Hogwarts, he needed me to persuade him out of retirement, now that Umbridge is gone. His name is Slughorn. Haven't happen to have read about him in your reading's have you?"

"Can't say I have," Hermione frowns. "He must be worth something if Dumbledore values him, right?"

"Dunno. He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?" Harry asks.

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," Ginny's voice enters the room. She slinks in, flicking the door shut behind her. "Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Ron asks, but Hermione thinks he should know by now.

"It's _her_," she says, sitting down on the other corner of Harry's bed. "She's driving me mad."

Hermione sighs. "Why now?"

"It's the way she talks to me—you'd think I was about three!" Ginny yells.

Hermione shakes her head. "She's still improving English and her cultural understanding—"

"Yeah," Ron cuts her off angrily. "Can't you lay off her for five seconds?"

"Oh, that's right, defend her," Ginny snaps at the both of them. "She knows English well enough to be condescending. And Ron, we all know you just can't get enough of her."

Hermione tries to open her mouth to defend herself, but she sees Harry shift in the corner of her eye. "Who are you—?"

The door flies open and Fleur is standing there, holding a tray of food, smiling wide. Hermione tumbles to the floor suddenly, and she looks up, shocked, to find Harry holding the bed covers up to his chin. "'Arry! Eet 'as been too long!" she cries, hurrying to bring him the tray of breakfast.

Molly hurries in behind Fleur, and Hermione watches from the sidelines. She had been serious when she'd told Bill that she would not get involved between Fleur and Molly, though it pains her. Hermione knows Molly. Standing up for Fleur would not earn points for Hermione _or_ Fleur. Instead, it'd result in a very upset and angry Weasley matriarch, and both Hermione _and_ Fleur would bear the brunt of it.

Once Fleur has gone and taken Molly with her shortly after, the others sit and talk for a while longer about Fleur (and Tonks, oddly enough). Hermione is happy to stay out of this until Ginny says, "she's damn slight nicer than _Phlegm_," and Hermione snaps.

"Or you could respect her and call her by her name."

Ginny's head snaps around and she stares at Hermione, wide eyed. "Excuse me?"

"Ginny, you know Bill better than I do. Do you _really_ think your Mum is going to be able to stop him from marrying someone that he _wants_ to marry? She didn't want him to be a curse-breaker either, right? I've heard the stories," she admits, because she has. Fred and George used to tell her them when they'd tell her about their dreams to open up a joke shop, and how they didn't want to tell their Mum yet because Bill _and_ Charlie both got earfuls for their career decisions. "You haven't even taken the time to get to _know_ Fleur, which, by the way, is hurting your older brother. Not to mention Fleur, but seeing as you don't care about her, I'll leave her out of it."

"Why do you even care?" Ginny snaps. "How can you even _like _her with the way she speaks to you?"

"Because I'm _trying_ to!" Hermione yells. "Because Bill asked me privately to get to know her because _you_ had already made up your mind and he didn't want her to be alone while she was staying here. And you know what else? I know what it's like to have to worry to not be accepted into this family. I love Fred but what if you and I have a fight and we never make up? What if Ron never forgave me for not telling him about Fred and I? What if your Mum didn't approve of Fred and I, or believed all of those articles my fourth year? I'd be _just_ like Fleur, stuck on the outside, and that'd _suck_."

Ginny stares with angry eyes, but she remains silent.

"I know what it's like to have cultural differences, and I know what it's like to be on the outside of this family and _fear_ being on the outside of this family. Muggleborns are more common than veelas so you all are more than happy to over look my cultural differences, but you hold hers against her. And I love you, and you're one of my best friends, but you're tearing down a relationship that you haven't even _tried_ to build. Fleur doesn't understand you _just as much_ as you don't understand her. But the fact that Bill—your _role model_—has fallen in love with her, I think she deserves a chance. I've given her one, and I've seen how hard she's trying. I haven't seen you try at all."

"Ginny," Molly's voice says as the door swings open, "come downstairs and help me with the lunch."

Ginny clenches her jaw, tears welling up in her eyes. Hermione isn't kidding herself—she knows they're from the way that Hermione has been talking to Ginny. "I'm talking to this lot!"

"Now!" Molly yells, and then slips back out the door.

Ginny very nearly stomps her foot. "She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Fleur!" and disappears out the door.

_Fleur_, Hermione grins. Not _Phlegm_.

Well.

That's something.

*\

Ginny, much like Ron, isn't a fan of admitting when she's wrong.

Instead, five nights after their argument, she sits beside Hermione at dinner and listens to Hermione, Fleur, and Bill's conversation. She only joins in to speak to Bill, but Hermione thinks that at least it's a start.

By the time they head to Diagon Alley, Fleur and Ginny have moved on to having casual conversations, and Ginny is acting as if Hermione had never yelled at her in the first place.

When they get to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she's thankful that she never spent much time in the twins shop. The amazement on her face as she explores the store with Ron, Harry, and Ginny isn't fabricated at all. It's entirely genuine. She's even had to bite back tears on several occasions where she can see her hand at play. By the look Ginny gives her, she hasn't hidden her overwhelmed emotions from her friend at all.

It's not until Hermione stumbles across a piece of magic that she hadn't seen at all that she's entirely blown away.

"'Patented Daydream Charms…'" she reads slowly, and continues reading down the label, more and more amazed the further she gets. "'One incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.' You know, that really is extraordinary magic," she tells Harry, pride seeping through in her tone.

"For that, love," Fred's voice comes from behind them, "you can have one for free."

"Right," Harry says. "I don't at all want to know what inspired _that_ product."

Fred tosses his head back and lets out a sharp laugh. "As much as you _could_ be right, Daydream Charms were actually George's idea. How're you, Harry? And you—I'm sorry, _what_ has happened to your eye, 'Mine?"

She rolls her eyes, ignoring the pain that comes with it. "Your punching telescope. Why on earth did you two make something like that?"

Fred frowns. "Oh, blimey, I forgot about those. Here—" he reaches into his pocket and digs around for a few seconds before emerging with a tub of paste. He unscrews it and takes a small amount onto his index finger, and rubs it around her eye. "It'll be gone within the hour." He leans in and presses a kiss to her brow.

"What kind of prank were the telescopes supposed to be?" Hermione frowns, dabbing a finger at the paste and then sniffing it. It smelled like oranges, despite being a horrid looking mustard color.

Fred slips the cream back into his pocket. "You know how much George hates astronomy. It was a pipe dream of his to offer that telescope to Sinistra—"

"That's awful!"

Fred shrugs. "He didn't."

"He still thought of it," Hermione huffs, and turns from Fred, looking back to the Daydream Charms.

Fred sighs. Hermione knows they have different thoughts on many things, but _these_ were the things that she didn't—_couldn't_—approve of. Pranks are one thing. Retribution and justice are another. Mindlessly injuring someone… She knows they've done it, but she also knows she's turned a blind eye because the people they were mindlessly injuring were Slytherins. But Professor Sinistra was a professor, and a lovely one at that!

"C'mon, 'Mine," Fred sighs, grabbing onto her hand. He looks up and his shoulders slump in relief. "Oi! Georgie, take Harry for a tour now, would you?"

"No, wait, I want a word with George!" Hermione says.

Harry grimaces and turns to the younger twin. "Sorry, Hermione. I'm really looking forward to this tour, though, so—"

"Harry!"

George watches from where he's standing, eyebrows knitted together. When Harry reaches him, he asks, "what's that all about?"

Hermione doesn't hear Harry's response because Fred is spinning her into his arms. "'Mine, it was when we were kids. We haven't made anything that harmful in _months_—"

"Months!" Hermione scoffs, pulling out of his hold.

" —_and_ what we did make were all prototypes for our skiving snackbox line. Just because we never made an antidote to Milk Chocolate Migraines doesn't mean we were going to sell them just to help people get migraines."

"But this was—"

"—something George quickly decided against. He realized Sinistra wasn't like Umbridge, she was just a teacher who happened to teach a subject he really bloody hated and decided easily that the telescope would solve nothing."

"But he—"

"—has grown as a person since then."

"But—"

"—you still love us?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "I can be angry whilst loving."

Fred grins. "I wasn't joking when I told you to take a Daydream Charm, y'know. I know you'll never use them during class—"

"Who knows," Hermione cuts him off, picking one up. And just like that, it's over. Of course she's still upset at the both of them and the terrible thought to give Sinistra a harmful telescope, but Fred is right. They didn't, and they have grown. She sees that everyday. "If Slughorn turns out to be anything like Umbridge, I just _might_."

"_Slughorn?_" Fred parrots.

Hermione nods. "Yeah, Harry said that Dumbledore asked his help to recruit a professor called Slughorn. We've only lost Umbridge, so I can only assume he's going to be our new dark arts professor."

"If that's the case, take twenty," Fred grins.

Hermione laughs. "I do have to study _some._"

"And I still have to exist around her," a new voice enters. Hermione turns, and sees Ginny standing behind them. Hermione's face flames red. "I love that you two are in love, but I'd prefer to keep _that_," she motions to the Daydream Charm, "away from me."

"Yeah," Fred reaches over, "as long as you and Dean Thomas keep it away from these Daydream Charms, as well."

Ginny takes notice of something on the other side of the display. "That's none of your business."

"I don't think Lee much wanted it to be his business either," Fred murmurs to Hermione, watching as his sister leaves them. "But he didn't have much choice in seeing them snogging in the middle of Gwynedd's Pub last week."

Hermione tries not to laugh—Ginny is one of her best friends. That being said, Hermione thinks that being discovered by Lee of all people must be frustrating for Ginny, and she can't help but laugh a little at her friend's misfortune.

"What are these?"

"Pygmy Puffs," George's voice sounds from the other side of the Daydreams' display, signaling his return. "Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed them fast enough. So what's this I hear about one Dean Thomas? What happened to that Corner fellow?"

Hermione and Fred join the others just in time to see Ginny lean over the Pygmy Puffs enclosure, far too distracted by the creatures to mind George's questioning. "I dumped him, he was a bad loser," she says, and then pokes a finger between the bars, cooing when the Puffs gather around it. "They're really cute!"

"They're fairly cuddly, yes," Fred agrees, stepping closer to Hermione and wrapping an arm around her shoulders casually. "But you're moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren't you?"

"Fred!" Hermione gasps, nudging her elbow into his ribs. He ducks away from her and grabs at his side, pulling a face. "That's rude!"

"Oi, and your elbow in my ribs _isn't_ rude?" he huffs. "It's my sister!"

"That makes it even more rude!"

"How does that make any sense?"

"Just because she's your sister doesn't mean you own her or get to decide who she dates or how she dates!"

"I think it should at least be my business to _know_," Fred argues.

Ginny steps forward. "Actually, it's none of your business. And I'll thank _you_," she whirls on a just returning Ron, "not to tell tales about me to these to!"

"Wha—?"

"Actually, it was Lee," George interjects.

Fred smirks and quirks an eyebrow at his sister. "If you don't want it to be our business, you shouldn't be snogging him just a few doors down from our shop." Ginny flushes red, but before she can retort, Fred is turning to Ron, examining the product in his arms. "That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut. Cough up."

Hermione blinks, going over Ron's arms and trying to assess the cost as quickly as Fred had. Ron's arms were stuffed with seven packages, and there were no prices in sight. But he's been doing this for the entire summer and it's always been clear that he's had a quick mind, even with numbers. She shouldn't really be surprised.

She looks at the Pygmy Puffs again, and pulls one out from the enclosure. She looks around the room while the twins and Ron bicker and thinks that, while she isn't living here for the time being and this isn't the home that she envisioned, she's lucky to call this home.

*\

_'Mine, _

_ Happy birthday! _

_ I know I got you those MACUSA and Ilvermorny history books this summer and called them your birthday gifts, but I lied. _

_ No, that's a lie. _

_ It was your birthday gift, but it wasn't your only birthday gift. _

_ George and I have been working on this for you for the past year, but we've never gotten it to the point where it was refillable before. If you haven't opened the package yet, I'll go ahead and explain:_

_ This is a linked quill and ink pot. You don't have to dip the quill, but you do have to make sure there's ink in the pot. We kept having trouble with the refilling aspect, but we've gotten if perfect now, just in time for our two years of letters, no? _

_ NO, my absence from the sorting this year was not a forfeit and you know this. There is no way I will be handing over my trophy. Did you read that? It said _my trophy_. Because I won it fair and square last year and for the final time, I did not cheat. You're really hurting our relationship with that question, you know. How can you ever be a part of my life if you can't trust that I'd be honest and true? _

_ It is a good thing that you didn't bring this up earlier though, because George and I might have considered sneaking into Hogwarts through a secret passage way. I already have to restrain myself from visiting you like that as is. Now that the professors can't give me detention I'm terrified of what my punishment would be. _

_ Let me know how you're liking the new professor soon and how you've settled in. _

_ Yours, _

_ Fred _

*\

The first few weeks of the semester pass by quickly. She makes immediate use of her gift from Fred and George, writing letters to them, Alicia, Angelina, and even Lee once. She gets back enthusiastic responses, but as all of her friends are off busy with their jobs—Fred, George, and Lee at the shop and Alicia and Angelina at auror training—the letters are slow going.

Katie and Hermione spend the entirety of the evenings together studying for their NEWTs. While Hermione's are still over a year away, Katie's are not, and she always does better with someone to keep her on track. Since Hermione believes she can never start studying _too_ early, much of her time is spent in the library and in the common room in silenced corners, with even Ron joining on rare occasions.

They still need breaks though, and even breaks from each other.

Without the others there, Hermione and Katie have spent the majority of their time outside of classes in each other's presence, and Alicia has been joking in letters that Katie is going to take over Alicia's place as Hermione's best friend. They are growing closer, but when Hogsmeade weekend approaches, Katie tells Hermione that her friend from Hufflepuff has asked her to go with her.

That's fine until—

"Katie?" Hermione paused, watching as her friend hangs, suspended in the air with no obvious cause. She's completely at a loss for words. Then, Katie screams. "_Katie!_" Hermione yells, running over as Leanne jumps for Katie's ankle, trying to pull her down. Hermione does the same to the other ankle, and just as they get her feet in their grasp, she tumbles from the air. Hermione shrieks, but is thankful to see that Harry and Ron have caught the girl.

The relief lasts no more than a few seconds because even as she's safe in the two boys' arms, she starts seizing—her limbs twitch in every direction and her eyes roll back into her head and Hermione screams her name again.

She and Leanne are crying, calling out her name and asking her to look at them, telling her "it's us, it's Hermione, it's Leanne, your friends—we're your friends, you're safe." Even as Hermione says the words, she knows they're a lie—Katie is far from safe right now, and Hermione doesn't know how to help her. She's over come with guilt at that. She should be able to help her friends.

Once Hagrid arrives and hurries off to the school with Katie still screaming and seizing, Hermione turns to the other girl. They're both crying, but Leanne looks distraught. Hermione wipes her cheeks. "I—Leanne," she says. "What—did that just happen all of the sudden? Did she do anything like that earlier?"

Leanne shakes her head from side to side. "No. No. _No_, it just—it was when that package tore."

Ron reaches down, but before he can grab the packaging, Harry is grabbing his friend and pulling him back. "_Don't touch it!_" he yells. After a minute, he says, "I've seen that before. It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it."

A chill runs through Hermione, but she doesn't think it's due to the cold.

*\

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent time with Professor McGonagall, covering the events that they'd seen and Harry's theories, and then she'd dismissed them but—

"Professor," Hermione calls hesitantly. "Would it be possible if I came with you to check on Katie?"

"Of course," Professor McGonagall says. "I'm so sorry I've forgotten your friendship with Ms. Bell in this mess. Do not hesitate to ask Madam Pomfrey for a draught should you need one."

She follows Professor McGonagall through the entry way and falls in to step next to her as they head down to the infirmary. "I'll… I think I'll be alright," Hermione murmurs.

"Yes, I suppose you will," the professor agrees. "After all, you've seen much worse, have you not?"

"Not on my friends… not first hand… not like that."

McGonagall looks at her, and her eyes are so sad that Hermione can't hold eye contact for more than a moment. "Right," the professor says once Hermione turns away, "I'm very sorry, Ms. Granger."

"Thank you. I'll just feel better once I've seen her for myself."

Professor McGonagall slows her walk down considerably. She pauses, waiting for Hermione to look up at her. When Hermione does, McGonagall shakes her head. "Now—please remember that she may not… you may not like what you see."

"Oh," Hermione says. That's right. Katie might not be… _cured_ already. She might not be recovering already. Madam Pomfrey is one of the top healers around, but not even she can cure everything. Who knows what kind of curse was in the necklace? It was likely intended to kill—that was the only reason anyone would risk giving it to an unsuspecting student and either forcing or charming or _cursing_ her to act. Hermione knows her friend had to be coerced in some way. Katie was the most cautious of her friends; she would never agree to bring an unknown package into Hogwarts.

They reach the infirmary soon after they set out, but Hermione can tell quickly that Professor McGonagall was right. From outside, she can hear Leanne sobbing and Madame Pomfrey bustling around. Professor McGonagall wastes no time in bursting through the door, clearly in a rush to help her student, and Hermione is quick to follow, ready to help her friend.

Katie is floating again, seizing over a bed. Hermione knows there must be something she should be able to do to help, but she freezes. This is unlike any other situation she's been in before—seeing her friend in such an immediate danger and _not_ having an answer on how to help. _Merlin_, she should have read more books on curses!

She starts to stutter out a question—starts to ask how she can help, because she wants to. _Needs_ to.

Before she can spit out more than a few words, Madam Pomfrey is pulling the curtain around Katie's bed shut firmly, and that's her answer.

Hermione has never, _never_ felt so helpless.

She doesn't like the feeling.

Next to her, Leanne sobs harder, and Hermione wishes that she weren't so numb that she could cry, too.

An hour later, when Madam Pomfrey emerges, Hermione asks for a draught.

*\

She's already upset with Ron over the _Felix Felicis_ incident when she sees him snogging Lavender.

Maybe that's why she reacts the way she does.

The way she reacts being: turning, running out of the portrait hole, and trying door after door until one finally gives way and she can pull it open.

_Did you really sit with the third years today? _

She summons a small, tweeting yellow bird. It flutters around and lands on her finger when she holds it up.

_How did you do it?_

She flicks her wand, and another bird pops up. When she lowers her hand, the other bird begins fluttering around with the newly summoned bird.

_You're not—or, I mean, __**they're**__ not… _

Another flick of the wand.

_**They**__ approached __**you**__?_

Another bird.

For as long as Hermione has been at Hogwarts, Lavender Brown has made it clear that Hermione Granger is _beneath_ her.

That because Hermione isn't as well versed socially, and isn't as fashionable, and doesn't care as much for boys that she's somehow _lacking_. As if her magical talents don't make up for her disinterest in _gossip_ makes her a lowly witch!

Hermione had to stop talking about her successes in second year all-together. Lavender and Parvati had no care for them, and so instead of celebrating them with her, they became ammunition. They became curses that the two girls spewed, as easily as sly comments about her hair or wardrobe.

She'd cried to Ron about it.

Well, not Ron in particular, but he was there. He knows.

He knows the kind of person he's snogging.

He knows that of all of the people at Hogwarts, even including the Slytherins, Lavender has _hurt_ Hermione.

She clenches her fist around her wand.

Another bird.

Another.

Another.

And then a noise.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she says, working hard to keep her voice even. She thinks he can probably tell, but at this point, she doesn't mind. "I was just practicing."

Harry looks at the six birds circling around Hermione and frowns. "Yeah… they're—er—really good…"

He looks awkward—like he wants to say something but isn't sure how to, and so Hermione takes it into her own hands and asks, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er… does he?"

Hermione scoffs. "Don't pretend you didn't see him. He wasn't exactly hiding it, was—"

There's a crash, and then Ron and Lavender are falling into the room. They break apart long enough to check the room.

"Oh."

"Oops!" Lavender shouts, and then disappears back out the door.

There's a long, pregnant pause, where only Hermione's birds can be heard. Ron doesn't look at her, but after waiting until the room is just on the wrong side of awkward enough, he turns to Harry. "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to."

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside. She'll wonder where you've gone."

Hermione starts towards the door, fully intent on leaving.

But then she hears it.

Lavender, somewhere out in the hallway, giggling.

Hermione _knows_ maybe Lavender is just over excited, or maybe even Parvati has found her, but all she can think about is the dozens of times that giggle has been directed at her and—

"_Oppugno!_" she cries, and then rushes from the room, not stopping until she's made it to her bed and drawn the curtains.

*\

_'Mine, _

_Alicia says she's still updating you on Katie, but in case my owl reaches you first, she's still in the same condition: critical but stable. Her parents are giving Alicia more updates and Alicia is only giving us need-to-knows so she'll have more information for you. I've been to see Katie three times now and she just… looks like she's sleeping. I'm sorry I can't offer more reassurance there. _

_There's no need to feel bad about not talking to Ron for the past month. It's on him. I still remember those bloody 'tee-hees' at dinner after you had your episode in divination. You were clearly stressed and they were using it as some twisted form of joy? What do you call those tell-a-vision shows? Soup Opero? You were their Soup Opero. You, a living witch. _

_ She's Ron's to deal with, and we'll all be glad to watch that crash and burn. _

_ That will be our very own Soup Opero to watch. _

_ Good job on your potions essay! While Harry has that book, at least he can't best you at what you do best—literally everything else that isn't given to you. _

_ Sales are starting to pick up. It seems that Christmas is going to be almost just as big as back to school, so we've been spending a lot of time in the back room, experimenting. We've got lots to show you when you're home! It's only a few more weeks now. _

_Mum's going to invite your for Christmas Eve. I'm going to start figuring out my excuse to get out of Christmas Day earlier than the others so you're not alone too long. I'm sorry you can't come along. I know there's nothing we can do about it, but I'm still sorry. _

_Interesting piece of news. The second hand supply shop four doors down closed up shop suddenly. There was no warning of it, at all. We even bought three cauldrons from them for testing products two days before they closed up. The owner, a nice man named Braith, gave no hint that he was closing up. _

_ It's a shame, really. They were the best place to get things we might accidentally blow up. _

_Yours, _

_Fred_

*\

"_I don't bloody fancy Ron!_" Hermione yells, sliding her fingers into her hair and tugs, trying to ground herself before she flies off the handle completely.

It took five weeks, but it finally happened.

She _knows_ that's the assumption that Lavender is going on—she'd know even if Lavender didn't make rude comments about how Ron would never choose Hermione. Even if she didn't cling to Ron a little tighter when Hermione was in sight. Even if she didn't send smirks Hermione's way every time Ron chose Lavender over Hermione (which was always).

"Of course you do," Lavender says matter of factly from where she's grabbing her bag, ready to leave for lunch, "I may not have your _grades_, but I'm not _stupid_. You've always liked him, and you've wanted nothing to do with him ever since he started seeing me! You're clearly jealous—"

"I'm _upset_," Hermione says, her hands flying from her hair to form tight fists at her side, "because he chose _you_ of all people to snog. It doesn't feel wonderful when your best friend picks one of the cruelest people—"

"_Cruel?_ That's rich, coming from _you_ who has always been cruel to _me_."

Hermione scoffs. "I'm poking fun at _divination_, not you."

"Just because you're not good at it—"

"No, because it's _ridiculous_, actually—"

"_You_ think it's ridiculous, you mean, and you're _better_ than anyone else, is that—"

"I am _not_ better than anyone else! Just because I get better grades than _some_ people—"

"My grades are perfectly fine—"

"Oh, yes, I'd be very proud of 'fine,' too, with divination being my highest—"

"_See?!_ There you go—thinking you're _better_—"

"Better than you? Yes, probably, if you have to stoop so low—"

"I haven't stooped at all—!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake _shut it!_"

Hermione and Lavender both freeze. They look up and see Sophie sitting at the desk next to her bed, her chair turned to face them.

"You both hate each other, we bloody _get it_, you don't need to yell about it when some of us are trying to do work," she snaps. "Lavender, you're a bully. Hermione, you've not liked Lavender from the start. You're both twats to each other and if your arguing over a boy causes me to cock up this theory essay I'll create a spell that turns you both orange if you even _think_ of one another, alright?"

Hermione stares. She's—well. She's not really sure how to respond. Sophie has always been so… quiet. Hermione has never heard the girl raise her voice, and by the look on Lavender's face, she hasn't either.

But… really? Hermione's really been that awful to Lavender? She barely interacts with the girl! Sure, she's made comments about her tendency to gossip, and her flippancy towards certain subjects, and even her grades on occasion, but they've never been _cruel_, she doesn't think. Most of them have been after Lavender makes her own comments about Hermione, anyways!

Not that that makes it right, Hermione thinks. It definitely makes her feel better about herself, that maybe she didn't start this, but the thought of it also makes her feel awful because she's _continued_ this. Lavender treats her horribly, but, yes, she must admit, she treats Lavender no better.

How could she have been so clueless?

How could she have been so cruel?

_I'm not going to gossip about my friends to the likes of __**you**_.

Merlin, it's been since the very start.

A double edge sword, each one of them impaled on one of the blades.

Well, Hermione was going to pry herself off of that bloody blade, no matter what it took.

*\

Later that night as all of her dorm mates are getting in to bed, Hermione is in a stare down with Crookshanks. She's been debating all day how to go about this, and Crookshanks has been no help. Ginny had told her to simply rip the bandaid off (though she didn't understand why Hermione felt the need to), and right now, Hermione thinks that's her best option. So when Crookshanks blinks at her again, she says, "I'm seeing someone."

Parvati's whispering stops. All four of her dorm mates look at her, but Hermione when she looks up, she's only focused on Lavender. "I don't fancy Ron. I'm very much in love with someone else—someone who loves me, too. If you and I can call a truce, where you don't ridicule me or laugh at cruel jokes about me, and I won't ridicule you or make fun of your love of divination—or… divination at all… in front of you—, I'll be more than happy for you and Ron." She tangles her fingers together. "It never hurt that he chose someone else over me like you thought. It hurt that he chose someone who has hurt me and who he _knows_ has hurt me. I don't know if you knew how much what you were doing hurt, because I hadn't realized I have been hurting you. But you have hurt me, and I have hurt you, and that's that. Nothing can change what we've done, but we can change moving forward."

Lavender stares at her in shocked silence before she nods. "Truce." There's a long pause while Lavender gets settled on her bed, shifting awkwardly once her back is against the headboard. "And, no, I don't _mean_ to hurt you… I've never went out of my way to be nice, but I never intended to be… _cruel_."

Hermione nods quickly. "That's alright, it's the exact same with me. I'm terribly sorry that I have been."

"Thank you, Hermione. I'm sorry, too." Another pause. "Who are you seeing?"

Hermione laughs and drops her hands to her sides. She can't believe that this has been so easy. "Not quite ready to talk about that, yet."

"Is it one of the twins?" Parvati asks excitedly. "I'll bet it's Fred, you were always with him—"

"No, she was always with George, wasn't it? He has the softer voice," Lavender argues. Hermione has to give it to her—George _does_ have the softer voice. Fred just takes on a similar tone with Hermione.

"That's right," Parvati says. "But—George was with a few different girls, wasn't he?"

"Maybe it was Fred claiming to be George?" Lavender jumps off her bed. "No! _Viktor!_"

"Of course! His owl still comes every Saturday it _must_ be—"

"It's not," Hermione cuts in.

Lavender giggles. "You never denied the Wealsey twins!"

She shakes her head. "Viktor is seeing someone. I'd hate for word to accidentally get out if I were to let anyone believe I am seeing him. I'm very lucky to have him as a friend, however."

"So the twins _aren't_ seeing anyone?"

"Not that I know of, no," Hermione says. "I think George fancies Angelina though."

_Damnit_, Hermione thinks. It must show on her face, that she really didn't mean to say anything because two wide grins grow on the girls' faces.

"It's Fred!" Parvati yells. "You _must_ be seeing Fred Weasley!"

Hermione grimaces, taking a seat on her bed. There are two ways out of this. She decides to take a leap. "Alright, alright. I'm dating Fred."

Lavender and Parvati both screech excitedly and hop over to Hermione, enveloping her in their two pairs of arms. Hermione curls herself into a tight ball, but accepts the onslaught of attention from them.

"I always thought that he'd been so transparent about his feelings for you," Lavender giggles, pulling out of the hug. "The way he _looks_ at you—"

"—the way he _talks_ to her—"

"—the way he _defends_ her—"

"—alright, alright," Hermione stands up. "But I'm going to ask you _please_ to not tell anyone. You two can talk about it all you want with anyone in this room, but you're the only ones in the school who know apart from Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Katie, so I'll know who to ask."

"We won't!" Lavender says quickly. "We _can_ keep secrets, they're just not usually _worth_ keeping."

Parvati nods. "You've trusted us with this, and we don't want to hurt Lavender's future sister in law!"

Oh.

Now isn't that a thought.

*\

_ 'Mine,_

_ I knew your row with Ron wouldn't last much longer. It is a complete surprise that Lavender was the one to resolve it, though. Who'd have thought? Not me. I don't think you would have either. I actually don't think a single person could have predicted that, not even Trelawney (or an actual seer). _

_ No, Katie still isn't awake. She is still stable, and the curse is finally out, so we'll have to pay her a visit over break. Maybe hearing your voice will bring her back, since you're her favorite. Well, actually, who is Katie's favorite person in the group? I think it's all of us. She doesn't choose favorites like the rest of us. She's a good person; we're all horrible. _

_ Heads up, an _entire_ group of fourth years signed our forms for the love potions, and all of them said they were Gryffindors. I figured that might be of interest to you. There's probably a girl with a crush just playing around, but I know people have used these as pranks in the past. Remember they come in blue medicinal bottles. _

_ Angelina probably already wrote you about this, but George and her are off on their first date tonight. He's a right mess and asking me for advice. I laughed because I had to tell him that you and I have never been on an official date, so I have no advice. We'll have to fix that over your break, yeah? Doubt it'll be much different than us sneaking off back at Hogwarts all the time, but it can be proper. _

_ Have fun at your party this week. Tell Ron to behave himself like a proper gentleman or he'll have me to deal with. _

_ Actually, Lavender is probably more terrifying at this point, I'd imagine. _

_ Either way, he'd better treat you perfectly. _

_ See you in a few days. _

_ Yours, _

_ Fred _

*\

The next few days go by quickly, until she's back at the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, curled up on the couch against Fred's chest. She's in the middle of reading _Ancient Runes: The Language of War_ when Fred places his hand over the page she's reading. "Where do you want to live?"

Hermione looks up from her book, startled. "Hm?"

"Where do you want to live?" Fred asks again.

Hermione frowns. She doesn't understand where the question is coming from, really but… "London, probably—"

"No," he laughs. He leans down and presses a kiss to her temple. "When we're married. We've got to stay somewhere close enough where we won't be spending a fortune on floo powder every year for the shop, so probably London. But—" he pulls her closer, and she relaxes further into his chest. Her head falls back to lay on his shoulder and she looks up at him. "—have you thought about whether we're going to live in a flat like this? Or should we get a house?"

"I'm not sure," she answers honestly. She's never thought so far into the future, not seriously, anyways. When Fred mentioned marrying her earlier in the year, she'd simply imagined laying in bed with him, but with a ring on their fingers. She's thought about her career, oh, yes, she's certainly thought about that, but never about what else would come with that: living on her own, earning her own money, having the freedom to make her own decisions, and even having her own children. She closes her book and sets it down. "How many children do you think we'll have?"

"Not as many as Mum."

"_Thank you_," Hermione grins. "Maybe two or three?"

"Two or three," Fred echoes.

Hermione hums, traces a finger up and down Fred's forearm. "Probably a house, right?"

"I think you're right. I like the flat, but I like it for George and me. I want something different for us."

"Then we'll make something different."

"We'll always make something different," Fred says, and then leans down to kiss her.

She's not going to argue that.

*\

"So all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" Fred asks.

Everyone around him grimaces. Harry sits at the foot of the bed, while Hermione is curled into Fred's side to the left of the bed, and Ginny and George are sat to the right. The twins had arrived only a half an hour ago once they'd heard the news. It was well past dinner now, and Hermione didn't think any of them had eaten. At this point, she didn't think any of them _could_ eat.

George shifts in his seat. "This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," he says, pulling out a tiny gift from his pocket. He taps it with his wand until it becomes what must be its normal size, and sets it on the cabinet.

"Yeah," Fred grumbles, "when we pictured the scene, he was conscious." Hermione tosses an elbow into his side. He mumbles a short apology, but doesn't take his eyes off of his brother.

George nods. "There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him—"

Ginny straightens up. "You were in Hogsmeade?"

Fred nods. "We were thinking of buying Zonko's." Hermione whips her head up to look at him. He's looking down at her, a guilty look in his eyes. "A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do us if you lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore… But never mind that now," he says, and squeezes Hermione's hand. It's a promise, she knows, that he's going to explain later.

She knows he doesn't tell her everything about the business. Merlin knows they've gotten in arguments about the business before, and tonight very well could have led to another—what with the involvement of one of their love potions. But he almost always tells her the larger developments, and a part of her wonders why she hasn't heard of this one yet. It might just be too new of a development. It might be George's endeavor. It might be a lost cause, or a pipe dream, or a hard battle they'll have to fight. It might be because he doesn't want to get her hopes up.

Because honestly, whatever the reason, she's not angry he hasn't told her.

Instead, she's excited.

_Hogsmeade_.

Fred might be in _Hogsmeade_ if they get this shop, and no, she can't see him every day, not even every week or weekend, but she won't have to wait months on end between visits. She could see him a few times a month and their communication time with owl post would be virtually non-existent.

So maybe that's why he hasn't told her, because she wants to hop around in excitement right now despite no indication whether or not they'll actually be buying Zonko's or not. Right now it's a possibility, and that's all.

"… and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit," Harry is recounting, and Hermione snaps out of her reverie. _Right_, she thinks. Not the best time to be lost in her thoughts like that. "Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so… keep taking essence of rue…"

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," George breathes.

"Lucky there was one in the room," Harry says, voice devoid of any emotion. The way he said it sounded like he had landed at the same conclusion that Hermione had long ago.

Ron almost died.

Ron _would have_ died.

She sniffs, falling further into Fred's side. He tightens his arm around her and presses his lips to the crown of her hair. They stay like that for a long moment, soaking in the comfort that they feel just from one another before Fred pulls away to ask, "do Mum and Dad know?"

"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago—they're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon…"

Ron shuffles in his sleep, and mumbles.

The entire room pauses and silences, enough that they can hear the final conversations being had in the Great Hall at dinner.

They go on to discuss the poison and who might have poisoned the mead and why they might have poisoned it.

Despite his brush with death, Hermione is calm in knowing that Ron is under Madam Pomfrey's care, and that he's going to be all right. He lays still and silent for the remainder of the night, and she's thankful for his peaceful rest.

*\

_'Mine, _

_ Yeah, that was an oversight on everyone's part not to tell Lavender. At least it was quick work once you got back to your room. I can't imagine listening to that crying all night long. I would have ignored the feeling guilty and been like Sally and Sophie and put up a silencing charm. And why would she have a silk handkerchief? Don't you have to scorgify those more? That sounds slippery and disgusting. _

_ I'm glad it all worked out for them though. It definitely sounds like they've still got some communication issue to work out, but who's to say that isn't the future Mrs. Ronald Weasley? She's nice enough now that you've worked out your issues, right? We'll have to watch and see on the next episoap of their soap opera. (I got it right!) _

_ How far do you think Harry is willing to go to figure out what Blondie is doing? Room of Requirement is unpredictable and you're absolutely right that Blondie knew what to go looking for. Harry has no idea and he has a tendency to get a bit obsessive when it comes to Blondie. Watch out for him. I know you do, and will, but George and I messed around a bit with the Room of Requirement and it can be finicky. Make sure he's safe. _

_ Sirius has been going on about the Malfoys for the past few weeks at the Order meetings, so it's likely that Harry is keeping Sirius up to date on all of this as well, which is no surprise. It's just something we might want to watch out for, as I'm not sure how short a fuse Sirius has. _

_ Yours, _

_ Fred _

*\

"Ron and I broke up," Lavender's voice comes from the door.

Hermione and Parvati all freeze in what they're doing. Parvati is at her best friend's side in an instant but Hermione—

"I'm so, so sorry, Lavender," she says. She's being completely serious, but she remains wary. "What happened?"

"I saw you two, you know?" she says, sniffling. "Coming out of the dormitory tonight."

Hermione's stomach drops. "Lavender—"

"No," she interrupts with a shake of her head. "Please don't. I don't blame you, Hermione. No one could. Not when you get those silly looks on your face every time you get a letter from Fred. I know you don't like Ron, and I don't fault you for being his friend, either. But I think he likes you. And I don't think that's fair to me."

Hermione doesn't know what to say to that. She doesn't want to agree on the basis that she doesn't want to agree to Ron liking her, but Lavender is absolutely right that she deserves better than Ron especially with how he's been treating her these past few days. Hermione simply nods. "I don't know if you're right, but if you felt that way regardless, then you deserve better. You should never feel that way around the person you're with."

Lavender nods. She exhales shakily and offers a wavering smile. "I just wanted to tell you so you know what I think about his feelings. And I don't want us to go back to hating each other."

"Of course not," Hermione smiles. "I truly am sorry."

"I know you are, and I appreciate it, very much."

"Is there anything you need?"

"No," she shakes her head, and looks at Parvati. "I think I'd just like a good cry with my best friend."

*\

"_Katie!_" Hermione gasps, breaking away from Ron and Harry and running forward to break through the group of seventh years.

"Hermione!" Katie yells back, choking on a sob as she opens her arms to catch Hermione, just in time for the two of them to crash to the couch.

"Merlin, I've been so worried. Alicia has been sending updates, but I haven't heard from her in a few days now!"

"I asked her to let me surprise you. She got your last owl the day I got out, but Oliver ended up in Mungos with a broken leg. She's been writing his parents all week. I didn't want her to have to worry about getting an owl to you, too."

"No!" Hermione gasps. "Oh, what awful timing. Quidditch?"

Katie nods. "Took a Bludger to the leg. It was shattered, so they had to regrow his entire bone."

"Katie!" Ron yells, running through the group of already parted seventh year girls.

"Ron!" Katie grins. "It's good to see you."

"You too! On the ground and conscious."

"Ron!" Hermione scolds.

Katie let's out a loud snort, and covers her mouth quickly. "Yes. It is nice. To be back on the ground and conscious."

Ron's face is bright red, and he's looking at Hermione with a startled look. He certainly didn't mean to say that, she can tell, but if she's being honest, that's what had been running through her head, as well. The images of Katie, hanging, suspended in the air. She simply has better tact with her brain to mouth filter.

Katie laughs again at Ron's shocked face, and reaches up. She tugs on his hand, guiding him to take the seat to the side of her, opposite to Hermione. "Don't worry, Ron. Everyone's been walking eggshells, it's nice to hear one comment about what actually happened. I've long since accepted it."

"Isn't it scary?" Ron frowns.

"Of course it is," Katie nods. "But I've never let fear run any part of my life before, and I won't let it now."

Harry comes over then, and there's more discussion. Ron adjusts his position on the other side of Katie so he's facing her and watches her closely as she speaks. Hermione thinks that Lavender was entirely right to break up with Ron.

But Hermione doesn't think that it was she that Ron had feelings for.

*\

_'Mine, _

_ I would offer you congratulations on passing your Apparition testing, but I believe it's _you_ who owes me an apology for that. _

"_You'll be fine, 'Mine!" _

"_No, you're wrong I'm going to fail, Fred, and then you'll look like an arsehole!" _

_ Yeah, you try being your boyfriend when you're stressed. _

_ The worst part is, I'm only exaggerating a little bit._

_ Well, those nice little H-words sound absolutely lovely. How much have you learned about them thus far? How soon after learning about them did you write the letter? You didn't write a novel, so I'm assuming it was shortly after. I can see what I can dig up, since I'm not restricted by a library guarded by lovely Madame Pince, but I make no promises. My day job is very demanding. This, however, sounds very concerning and also demanding of attention, so I'll lend it all of my spare attention. _

_ Of course Ronnikins is in love with Katie. Do you think he'd ever be happy marrying someone who couldn't last more than five minutes with him? _

_I'm talking about chess, you know that, right?_

_ Please never show Katie this letter ever, or I fear we'll never be able to have children._

_ Really, I think it's a good thing, and I think it might even be returned, or returnable. Katie's always been closer with him than you'd really think they should be. Harry and Ron joined our group more out of convenience, not because anyone particularly wanted them to. They stayed because Alicia wanted to keep an eye on Harry and because Katie and Ron got on well. Kind of. Also because of you. _

_ Always you. _

_ Another café closed up last week. You know the one Lee saw Dean and Ginny snogging at (may their relationship rest in peace)? Just didn't open up last Tuesday, and hasn't since. That's four shops in Diagon Alley now. _

_ Thankfully business is good, and even if we do have to close up, Merlin knows why, we still have mail order. _

_ How's studying for NEWTs? Yes, I know you've already started even though you won't be taking them for well over a bloody year. _

_ From the day I write this, there's only four weeks until you're home. In case I don't get to write another letter, I can't wait to see you. _

_I'll be the one with red hair at the station. _

_Yours, _

_Fred_

*\

Fred doesn't get the chance to write her another letter, not after it takes her two and a half weeks to write one back during the hectic schedule of studying for finals.

After that, everything falls into chaos. The attack on the school is terrifying, and while everyone is ordered to remain within the confines of their common rooms, Hermione is _itching_ to get out. She fought the Death Eaters last year; she can do it again, right?

No, she thinks. She almost _died_ fighting the Death Eaters last year, and she's going to need to work on improving this summer if she has any hope in the coming battles. She'll ask Fred to work with her. Bill, Tonks, Sirius, Remus—all of them want her safe just as much as she wants to be prepared, so none of them will turn her away.

With her mind made up, she takes her swig of Felix Felicis and looks for those who she might be able to offer the most luck to. Mind quickly made up, she takes on her role of prefect and works to keep the first, second, and third years calm while they're stuck in place. She tells them the story of her first year, of how she, Harry, and Ron all teamed up to defeat You-Know-Who, and the children stare at her with wide eyes. They ask questions, and Hermione can tell the ones that are in awe, and the ones that have delusions of grandeur to be _heroes_ like they're calling her.

She hopes they never have to be.

The day of Dumbledore's funeral, Hermione feels more exhausted than she can remember being in recent history. The funeral itself is long, and many tears are shed, only adding to her exhaustion. Harry's declaration about his Horcrux hunt doesn't surprise her, but she feels like it adds another pile of stress, and another eight hours of sleep she's going to need.

By the end of the day, Fred picks her up at the station, long after Harry, Ron, and the other Weasleys have gone, and grabs her hand. She looks up at him, and she knows she must look like a mess. She's been sitting on this bench in the middle of the public train station for nearly an hour now, and she'd been crying mere hours earlier. Her face is probably still swollen, and her eyes bloodshot.

Fred doesn't seem to mind, pulling her from the bench and into his arms for a crushing hug. "Thank Merlin you're home," he says.

"Not quite yet," she reminds him, her voice muffled by his robes. "Still need to actually go home."

"Right. Do you want to stop for dinner?" he asks, squeezing her hand, letting Crookshanks climb up onto his shoulder.

She shakes her head. "No. No. I want to go home, and I want to sleep for an entire day. Please?"

Fred nods. "We'll do just that then."

And they do.

* * *

_One more to go. _

_As always, I'm on tumblr and AO3 under the same username. _

_Thank you all for sticking with me. _

_See you in a bit! _


	7. i've always known from the start

_Hello! _

_We've made it! Can you believe it? I hardly can, even though I knew all along I would finish this fic. _

_I hope this fic at least partially lived up to your expectations and I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! _

* * *

_**book vii.**_

Lupin and Tonks hold a beautiful ceremony.

There aren't even twenty people there—out in the Burrow's field under a tent that's going to be used in a matter of weeks for Bill and Fleur's wedding—but Hermione thinks that they both look entirely pleased.

Molly cries, Fred and George throw rice, Hermione regrets telling Fred and George about muggle traditions, and Fleur waxes poetics about how beautiful of a ceremony it is, crying into Hermione's shoulder at one point. All in all, it's a good day, even while Remus and Sirius clearly wish that there were more people there. By the look on Sirius' face, they're not just missing Harry.

She's getting ready for bed that night, slipping a hair tie off of her wrist to pull her frizz into a bun. Fred comes up behind her, like every night, helps pull up the stray hairs that she's missed, and then kisses the base of her neck.

It takes her by surprise when he says, "I'm going to ask you to marry me one day, you know?"

"I know," she says, because she does. They've talked about this, and he's never been shy about imagining their future. Honestly, neither has she, not once he opened that box up. They're both anxious to start their lives together.

Maybe by this time next year they can.

Maybe by this time next year the wizarding world will be safe again, she'll have her parents back, and she'll be able to marry Fred.

Maybe by this time next year they'll be able to get a house, move out, and they'll be able to live without fear.

_Or_, a voice in the back of her head says, _maybe by this time next year they'll be dead_.

*\

A week later, Hermione and Fred are moving about their bedroom. They've just woken up, though Hermione feels _off_—it's nearly eight pm and she's not used to naps. Fred, across the room, looks like he's having no issues with the change in routine.

She sighs.

Speaking of changes in routine—

"You know how I told you about the horcruxes?"

Fred grabs a shirt from the dresser and turns around to look at her. "Yes?"

"There's still four out there, remember?"

He slips the shirt on. "I do," he says. He crosses the room to her. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Because—because Harry's finally going to be here and there's something I haven't told you, because I know you're not going to like it," she admits, the words rushing out with minimal control from her.

Fred narrows his eyes. "What is it?"

"We're leaving. You can't tell anyone, not even George. But we. We're—we're going to search for the horcruxes."

Fred pauses for a moment, studies her, and then with little hesitation, he nods. "Okay."

Hermione falters. "You're—you're okay with this?"

"No," he laughs. He tilts his head down to meet her eyes and lays his hands on her hips. "But I understand, just like you did when we left Hogwarts. I can't bear the thought of you going off and doing all that you need to do, but I know why you have to. I understand. And I know why I shouldn't even bother to ask to tag along. But when you go… I'll be waiting for you to come back, you know?"

"I know." She does. She'd been counting down the days until she'd get to see Fred again, after all. "We might not get to say good-bye, Fred. I—I have a go-bag. I'm ready to leave at any moment. We might not get to say good-bye."

Fred's face begins to fall, be he masks it artfully, smirking down at her. "Then I guess we'll just have to say good-bye every chance we get, eh?" he asks, and then draws her into a deep snog.

He cradles her jaw in his hands, pressing his thumbs against her cheekbones and stroking, petting, soothing. She melts into the embrace and wraps her arms around his waist, clinging desperately to him even as he changes the angle of the kiss to be bruising, rather than the gentle quality it had carried moments before.

It was a decent good-bye, but Hermione hopes that it's not their only one.

She pulls back reluctantly. "We need to get going. They're expecting us."

Fred sighs. "Yeah. Let's go."

Hermione hopes this good-bye wasn't needed for an entirely different reason.

*\

Thirty minutes later they're standing in the Dursley's living room listening to Harry protest their plan.

"Nearly had t' wrangle Mundungus into this," Hagrid grumbles from his place in the front hall, being unable to fit in the room with them. "'e's the only one who might've objected t' this."

"Then Fleur found out she wasn't coming and demanded she help," Ron grins dopily.

Fleur squares her shoulders and nods once. "'Arry saved Gabrielle, I will help him 'owever I can!"

"Thank you, Fleur," Harry says. "But you really don't—"

"Harry," Sirius says, cutting off the protest, calmly. "Your hair please."

Harry shares a look with Ron who pulls a face, at least until Moody shouts "now!"

After that, Harry grimaces but follows the order, and reaches up to yank a few strands of his hair out.

Once everyone is lined up to take their drinks—Hermione, Ron, the twins, Fleur, and Sirius—Moody pulls out six miniature cups, shoving one into each waiting person's hands. He pours a fair amount from his flask into the cups, and then nods, giving them the go ahead. Shutting her eyes tight, Hermione tosses the potion back and prays the Dursley's didn't have a cat.

She'll never be used to the feeling of a Polyjuice Potion—the way her skin seems to peel off itself and create a new layer from the inside. Once it's over, the skin she's in feels too tight, a reminder that something isn't quite right, and she can't quite believe that Barty Crouch Junior existed like this for a _year_.

"_Wow_—we're identical!" she hears two of Harry's voices say next to her, and there's no question as to who they are.

"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better-looking," the one who must be Fred grins.

"Shush it," Hermione rolls her eyes, and hearing her voice come out as Harry's is on an entirely new level of _wrong_.

Fred tilts his head and smirks. "No surprise, I still find my lovely girlfriend attractive. 'Mine—roll your eyes again."

"Fred!"

"Oh—right, this could be considered as chatting up Harry, couldn't it?" He looks over to Harry. "Harry, could _you_ roll your eyes for me?"

"Those who's clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here, and vice versa," Moody says, nodding at the smallest sack. "Don't forget the glasses, there's six pairs in the side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack."

There's a lot of rummaging around then, getting everyone sorted, and once Hermione gets her glasses on, she can see clearly again. With that, she can see just how disturbed Harry looks, and how mad this all must seem to someone who hasn't been to each and every meeting for the past two weeks.

Or maybe seeing six of yourself is off putting.

Soon enough it's time to go (Hermione is thankful to be going on a thestral), and after Harry takes a moment to admire Sirius' revamped bike with Hagrid and Sirius, Moody calls them to attention.

They all take off and at once they're bombarded.

Hermione grabs her wand, firing spell after spell, and thanks Merlin that she and Fred had said good-bye, because she's not sure how they'll make it through this.

Less than two minutes in and the entire group is split up—no one can get eyes on anyone beyond their partner, and Hermione wants to scream. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They've taken so many steps to make sure that it _wouldn't_ be like this, and yet here they are, fighting to the death in the sky.

"_Hold tight, Harry!_" Kingsley shouts, and Hermione curls her arm tighter around his chest, just as a green bolt of light flies past them. She muffles a shout when the thestral dives and then she turns, yells "_stupefy!_" and hears a voice, fading as they fall. She takes only a moment to feel remorse, and then another curse is being aimed at her and Kingsley and she's throwing another spell over her other shoulder.

She hears a scream of pain as a spell of Kingsley's connects with a Death Eater, and then Kingsley groaning in pain immediately after. Through that, he aims another curse, throws it, and nearly—

Hermione gasps. "_Kingsley_," she says urgently.

"I see him!" Kingsley acknowledges, firing another spell at yet another Death Eater. Hermione does the same—firing off curse after curse into the group of Death Eaters surrounding them, and trying so hard not to focus on the fact that _Voldemort_ is floating ahead of them, at least until Kingsley turns to him. Wands raised, the two of them fire at him, just as he vanishes. "Keep your eyes open!" Kingsley calls back. "Find where he went!"

But she can't.

Only two Death Eaters remain, and one of them is still screaming, holding his arm where blood is rushing out. The other watches them carefully, firing one last curse as the thestral begins its descent.

"Why did he leave?" Hermione demands as soon as the thestral's feet touch down.

"I'm not sure," Kinsgley admits, striding over to the bushes to produce a bent wire coat hanger, "but hurry. Grab on quick. The sooner we're back, the sooner we'll know why."

*\

The coat hanger takes them precisely where it needs to, and _oh_, is it a relief to see Harry—_actual_ Harry. She throws herself at him, entirely ignoring everything else around her because even with Kingsley's doubts she _knows_ this is her best friend.

"Small comfort!" Kingsley growls as Hermione pulls back from the hug. "Who else is back?"

"Only Harry, Hagrid, George, and me."

Hermione gasps, trying to fight back a moan of upset. That's not right. Something's not right. Even just in the tone of his voice she knows that something isn't _right_.

"What happened to you?" Lupin asks.

Kingsley squares his shoulders. "Followed by five, injured two, might've killed one." Hermione is grateful that he doesn't look at her as he says that. "And we saw You-Know-Who as well, he joined the chase halfway through but vanished pretty quickly. Remus, he can—"

"Fly," Harry cuts in. "I saw him too, he came after Hagrid an me."

"So that's why he left, to follow you!" Kingsley exclaims, while Hermione's heart drops. She could've lost her best friend tonight. She's not quite sure how she didn't if Voldemort had been there, had found the right Harry. "I couldn't understand why he'd vanished. But what made him change targets?"

"Harry behaved a little too kindly to Stan Shunpike," Lupin supplies.

Hermione blinks. "Stan? But I thought he was in Azkaban?"

Kingsley huffs. "Hermione, there's obviously been a mass breakout which the Ministry has hushed up. Travers's hood fell off when I cursed him, he's supposed to be inside too. But what happened to you, Remus? Where's George?"

"He lost an ear."

Hermione gasps. "Lost an—?"

"Snape's work," Lupin says, but Hermione doesn't stick around to hear anything past that. She turns and runs into the Burrow, finding Ginny and Molly bent over a pool of blood and a mop of red hair.

"What can I do?" Hermione asks. "What can I do to help?"

Ginny gasps and jumps up, flinging herself at Hermione. "Oh, 'Mione! Thank goodness!"

Molly looks up, more subdued than her daughter. "Oh, dear. Nothing, now. I've stopped the bleeding, but that's all that's to be done."

"How is he?" Harry's voice asks behind her.

Molly smiles, but it's sad. "I can't make it grow back, not when it's been removed by Dark Magic. But it could have been so much worse… He's alive."

"Yeah," Harry agrees, "thank God."

"Did I hear someone in the yard?" Ginny wonders.

"Kingsley, maybe," Harry says—but—no.

No.

There's two sets of voices yelling and three sets of feet crashing towards the home and—

"I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!"

Oh, thank _Merlin_.

Hermione collapses to the floor, but she keeps her eyes up until she sees Arthur and Fred enter the room, until she sees them both in one piece. When Fred comes through the door, her shoulders slump and she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. He makes eye contact with her briefly—they share a nod—just the smallest of acknowledgements—before Fred stumbles over to George. George's eyes blink open, and Hermione breathes out a sigh of relief, along with everyone else in the room. She gets up and leaves the room, unable to stand the heaviness of the atmosphere for even a moment longer. While George may be awake, they're still missing six others.

*\

Hermione leaves the house at quarter 'til six, while everyone else is asleep. She couldn't—_can't_—sleep. She's not sure why. The move is over and done with, and while losing Mad-Eye is devastating, it could have been much, much worse.

She makes her way out to the pond, mind racing with every step she takes. There's footsteps behind her, too light and deliberate to be Fred. Considering she'd left him passed out and snoring only minutes earlier, she wasn't expecting it to be him, anyways. But if she's being honest, the voice she hears is one of the last that she could have predicted. "Hermione, dear."

Hermione turns around, plastering a kind smile to her face. "Hello, Molly."

Molly returns the smile. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not even a bit," Hermione admits. "We took a nap for a few hours before the move which I'm not used to; it might be that."

Molly nods. "I'm all too familiar with complicated sleep schedules," she admits. "You begin to get used to it with seven children and a husband working overtime during the war."

"Really?" Hermione asks. "How do you deal with it?"

She smiles. "Tea. Or, like you, walking around a bit."

"So you couldn't sleep, either?"

"Not a wink."

Hermione nods, and then they fall silent. They stand like that for a few minutes, just listening to the nature around them, content. Safe, for a brief period.

Molly breaks the silence.

"Fred has asked me not to discuss this with you, not until you've talked to me directly, but with the uncertainty of the coming weeks…"

"It's fine, Molly. I've been wanting to talk to Fred about talking to all of you—"

"If you choose to, then we'll be thrilled for you both to talk with us, but in the mean time, I'd just like to thank you."

Hermione frowns and cocks her head to the side. "Thank me?"

"Yes, dear. I can understand why you hesitated to tell us, especially when I made those ridiculous remarks about you and Ron—"

Hermione shakes her head. "You weren't the only one. And Ron and I are past that now. I think you were right, at first anyways."

"Nevertheless, I still implied that he was being silly, because… well, because I never took the time to acknowledge your friendship with the twins. Oh, Fred's been in love with you for years, I never _knew_ but by the way he spoke of you… And I ignored it! I thought that perhaps he was getting his hopes up. You're Hermione Granger, aren't you, dear? I'd heard all about you from Percy, and the twins, and Ron, too. You're the brightest witch of your age Remus says. And Fred…" She pauses, shaking her head. "Fred chose a path I never would have chosen, and one that I never thought they'd succeed in. I wanted so much more for him, but he became so much more than I could have ever dreamed. And you… you never once doubted him."

"I definitely had _some_ doubts…"

"But you never made him, or George, feel like they couldn't. Something that even I, as their _mother_, didn't offer them."

"But you're obviously going to be more cautious as their mother. It's much more scary. I was just a friend supporting a friend."

Molly smiles and clasps her hands together. "Never the less, I wanted to thank you for supporting him and for being someone who makes him want to do better."

"I don't think—"

"He talks about you the way that he talks about his inventions," Molly says.

Hermione isn't sure what to say to that.

She thinks she understands exactly what Molly is trying to say: that Fred doesn't have a whole lot that he's invested in, but what he invested in… means the world to him. His love of Quidditch is as much a part of him as his humor is. His inventions are burned into his life force, and he'd be missing a piece of him should they be taken away.

And Hermione.

Hermione doesn't get to hear Fred talk about her, not in the context that Molly is talking about. Not when he'd get over excited, with a glint in his eyes, speaking with pride and pure joy. She doesn't get to see when he forgets that not everyone loves this thing as much as he does and not everyone knows as much about this thing as he does. When he loses himself in his words and starts speaking so effortlessly that it's a wonder he didn't prepare this as a speech. The way that once he gets started on this topic, it's hard to get his mind off of it.

And Hermione is apparently one of those topics.

She isn't sure what else to say, so she settles one, "thank you, Molly—"

"Mum, dear."

Hermione bites her lip, ignores the flare in her chest of overwhelming emotion that could either be pain from the reminder of her mum, or from the acceptance Molly is giving her, and she smiles. "Thank you, Mum."

*\

Bill and Fleur get lucky with the weather. The skies are a dull grey the morning of the wedding, but no rain comes. The actual ceremony isn't until later in the day, but she, along with Harry and the rest of the Weasley siblings, has been roped into setting up the inside of the tent. It takes the entire afternoon to set up even with all of them working, but Hermione thinks it's worth it for the look on Fleur's face when she looks around during the reception.

Fred and George flit around the tent afterwards, talking to some family members, avoiding others, and making small talk with some of Fleur's relatives. They drag Hermione and Angelina behind them, introducing each of them to large groups of people at a time, and Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't overwhelmed. It doesn't last forever, however, and when they move to take a seat at their table, she's grateful to have the meet and greet part of the evening out of the way.

"Are you not charmed by these veelas?" Hermione teases Fred and George when they drop into the seats next to their respective dates. Fred leans back in the chair and tips it onto the back two legs and smirks at her.

"Yeah," Angelina says from across the table, "aren't thinking of leaving us, are you?"

"The thought has crossed my mind," George says.

Fred nods, dropping the chair back onto all four legs. He slips an arm around Hermione's shoulders and says, "in the end we decided we like you two enough."

"_Enough_," Hermione scoffs. She looks across to Angelina and raises an eyebrow. "They like us _enough_."

"Just like we tolerate them enough," Angelina grins. "Barely."

"I don't know how we do."

"We deserve awards."

Hermione sits up straighter. "Well, as you know, I have experience conjuring up little trophies—"

"Yes, one that's now in my possession," Fred grins.

"One day it will be in _my _possession," Hermione says.

He shakes his head. "There are no more firsties to sort, 'Mine, you're out of luck."

"_What's mine is yours_," she says teasingly. "And you've already told me you're going to marry me."

Fred's grin slips off his face. "Well there goes that plan. I'm never going to be able to marry you, now."

"Oh, what a shame. I think I saw Victor talking to Barry earlier—"

"You did!" Angelina exclaims. "I heard him moaning about all the good girls being taken, y'know. You were one of them he was talking about."

Hermione flushes not having expected that at all. "Well, then. D'you reckon he'd be up for a dance?"

"I reckon he would, but I'm going to beat him to it," Fred says. He takes his arm from around her shoulders and stands up, extending a hand out to her. "What do you say, 'Mine?"

"What's mine is yours," she says.

He smirks down at her. "What's mine is yours."

With a grin, she reaches up to take his hand. He pulls her with him, and they're followed quickly by George and Angelina, onto the crowded dance floor. The music is slow right now, so Fred gathers Hermione into his arms and places a hand on her waist, pulling her close. "This reminds me of the Yule Ball," he says.

"Hmm," she hums. "Is the scent of the Sleekeazy bringing your mind back to years ago, the first time you smelled it?"

"Oh, definitely," Fred grins, pushing his face into her hair and taking a big whiff. "Smells like petroleum jelly."

"The smell of celebration."

Fred laughs and grips her hand tighter. "I thought once upon a time dancing with you at the Yule Ball would be the closest we ever came to a romantic relationship."

"Why? Did you think Viktor and I would end up happily ever after?"

"Not really," he says. "But you brought up Ron being jealous and that was a real concern for a while."

"_Ron_ was?"

"It'd make sense," Fred frowns. "You two are close friends and he _was_ jealous. He _did_ like you. And back then I didn't think you'd ever like me, so, yeah, I thought I was going to have to watch you fall in love with my little brother."

"Oh," Hermione says. "I wish I'd figured it out sooner. Liking you, that is. Maybe then I wouldn't have gone with Viktor—"

"No, I'm glad you did," Fred cuts her off. "You and Viktor are close now, and I think that's a good friendship that you have. We got there in the end, and that's all I care about."

"Yeah, we did." She pushes herself onto her toes and waits for him to bring his face down so she can press a short kiss to his mouth. After, he pulls her closer still and buries his face in her neck. "I love you," she tells him.

"Love you, too," he murmurs.

They dance for longer, music changing so it's more upbeat. Angelina and Hermione bounce around the twins together, singing along to all the songs they know (and belting out the lyrics to the Weird Sisters). Much later, she finds Harry, and plops into a chair next to him. "I simply can't dance anymore," she says. "Fred is just like an overexcited puppy, however. Can't seem to pull him off the dance floor. It's a bit odd, I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father, it looked like they'd been arguing—" and then she sees Harry's face. "Harry, are you okay?"

And then everything happens at once. Kingsley's patronus breaks the flood gates open and Hermione is rushing through the crowds, then.

"Ron! Ron, where are you?" Hermione screams, pulling Harry along as they shove their way through the crowd, dodging different spells all the while. "Ron! Ron!" she calls again, until finally he's there.

She doesn't take the second she wishes she could to look around and find Fred's eyes one last time. Instead, as soon as Ron's hand is on her, she thinks of Tottenham and disappears.

*\

The following months pass slowly. The time stretches out until every second feels like a minute. They're not so successful in their hunt, and the horcrux they did have has already torn them apart. Of course Ron found his way back (_of course_, she thinks sarcastically), but the divide left them reeling, especially upon his return.

"Oh—bloody hell," Hermione says through gritted teeth. She'd just begun to get over Ron's abandonment and now he shows up out of nowhere? Quite literally, out of nowhere, because she's going to need to know how he found them but for the time being—"you complete _arse!_"

"Wha—"

"What are you doing back here?" she demands, torn between wanting to hex him to pieces and wanting to Apparate away before he could even think to follow.

"I was wrong to leave—"

"Oh, good catch!" she laughs. "Did you think at any point you were in the _right_ for that move?"

"Well—no, but—"

"But _what?_ You crawl back here after weeks and weeks and you think—"

"Hermione—" Harry tries, but she's not interested.

She turns to him, and she's sure the look on her face must be why he stutters into silence. "Stay _out of this_, Harry."

"But—" Ron starts.

She turns back to Ron, who clams up much like Harry did. "_No_, you don't get to—you don't get to—just _return_ like nothing happened while you were gone! Like you'll just be _welcomed back!_"

"I'm _sorry_—"

"And you don't just get to say _sorry_ like that's going to make everything better!"

"Well, what else can I say?" Ron yells, and Hermione wants to yell back, but she bites her lip and thinks over her next words instead of reacting instinctively. She doesn't particularly care if she upsets Ronald further, but she doesn't want to be painted as the one who is in the wrong. Not by Harry, and not by an angry Ronald.

Hermione huffs out a short laugh. "I don't know, Ronald. Maybe you should have spent the _weeks_ you were away from us thinking about what you could say to make these things better."

"I was hardly spending my time just laying around!"

"Kudos to you, we haven't been laying around either, so sorry if we're not _prepared_ to receive you like everyone at home."

"No one was happy with me there either," Ron says.

"Good," Hermione spits, this time instinctively but she doesn't regret it because _what else_ had Ron been expecting?

"I thought your _boyfriend_ was going to hex me into oblivion."

"He should have." She doesn't comment on the _boyfriend_ part, like it was somehow _her_ fault that Fred was upset with Ron.

Harry steps forward. "Hermione—he saved—"

"Yeah," Hermione says, whirling on Harry, "he saved your bloody life. He _also_ abandoned us for _months!_ Which could have very well _endangered_ our lives!"

"I wanted to come back right away," Ron says.

Hermione scoffs. "Oh, congratulations."

"I did! I did, but I walked straight into a gang of Snatches, Hermione, and I couldn't go anywhere!"

Hermione pauses, caught off guard. Before she can ask, Harry beats her to it. "A gang of what?"

She listens as Ron goes on about the Snatchers, and feels fear grip at her heart. Some of it is for Ron, but the rest is for all of the Muggle-borns and blood traitors who didn't just abandon her and Harry for months on end. She feels sick thinking about what those who are being captured are going through, and a small part of her is wondering if death would be kinder than whatever they're going through. She thinks it's likely—Voldemort and Death Eaters seem to have a _thing_ for torture, but to what extent? Do the Death Eaters have use for the Muggle-borns? Or are they being rounded up and slaughtered like cattle?

She takes a brief moment to feel relief at her decision to send her parents away.

When Ron's finished, she rolls her eyes. "Gosh, what a gripping story. You must have been simply terrified. Meanwhile we went to Godric's Hollow and, let's think, what happened there, Harry? Oh yes, You-Know-Who's snake turned up and it nearly killed both of us, and then You-Know-Who himself arrived and missed us by about a second."

"What?" Ron asks, dropping his jaw dumbly.

"Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it?"

"Hermione, Ron just saved my life."

And, well, yes. She's grateful for that but—"one thing I would like to know, though. How exactly did you find us tonight? Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."

The conversation takes a turn after that, after they find out Dumbledore's gift was much more than it had seemed. She mainly listens as they discuss the Deluminator, and then the patronus and Ron's _heroic_ moment, but after all the excitement she turns and goes to bed.

"About the best you could hope for, I think," Harry says in a hushed tone.

"Yeah," Ron agrees. "Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?"

"I still haven't ruled it out," Hermione says, and then turns to fall asleep.

*\

"_Rodent?_" says a voice over the radio and _oh, Merlin_, Hermione is going to cry.

"Fred!" she cries, along with Ron and Harry.

Harry narrows his eyes. "No—is it George?"

"It's Fred, I think," Ron says, leaning in closer to the radio.

"I'm not being 'Rodent,' no way, I told you I wanted to be 'Rapier.'"

It's Fred, it's undeniably Fred and Hermione feels her eyes well up with tears that won't fall. It's hard being on the run, being away from everything she's known for years, and being away from her biggest support, but _oh_, to hear him, alive and well. She is so grateful to hear his voice.

"Oh, all right then. 'Rapier,' could you please give us your take on the various stories we've been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?"

"Yes, River, I can," Fred says, and then carries on in his speech. Hermione barely catches what he's saying, to busy just focusing on the sound of his voice. She does listen, however, and smiles wide at Fred's jokes as he talks about Voldemort.

As the show ends, Hermione listens to Lee's comforting voice as he signs off, and she sinks back to the ground and laughs giddily.

"Good, eh?" Ron smiles.

"Brilliant," Harry agrees.

"It's so brave of them," Hermione comments, feeling a small pang of worry in her chest, but pride is winning for the most part. "If they were found…"

Ron nods. "Well, they keep on the move, don't they? Like us."

"But did you hear what Fred said?" Harry asks, practically bouncing up and down on his knees. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, I knew it!"

Hermione grimaces. "Harry—"

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—"

"_Harry, no!_" Ron cries.

"—demort's after the Elder Wand!"

"The name's Taboo!" Ron panicks, jumping to his feet as a _crack!_ sounds from outside the tent. Hermione feels her heart leap into her throat. "I told you, Harry, I told you, we can't say it anymore—we've got to put the protection back around us—quickly—it's how they find—"

"Come out of there with your hands up! We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

Well, she thinks, at least she'd got to hear Fred's voice one last time.

*\

Three weeks into their time at Shell Cottage, Hermione hears a pounding on the front door, but she doesn't get up. She hears Bill yelling to whoever is there, suspicious note to his voice as Lupin had only been by yesterday. There's a noise and then the sound of the doors being opened. After a short mumbled conversation, footsteps climb the stairs. She knows she's the only one up here for now, having left all the others downstairs to go to sleep early.

She turns on her side to face the door and waits. Moments later, it opens and she draws in a quick breath.

"Hermione," Fred whispers. He stumbles towards her, but freezes when she flinches back. He takes a step back, apologizing but Hermione's shaking her head.

"No, no—please, come here," she says in a tired voice. "It was just—a reaction, too fast, I'm—_please_, Fred."

Fred is next to her in an instant. "Yeah, okay Hermione. I'm here—'ve got you—I'm with you—you're here."

Hermione hesitates for only a moment before she starts crying for the very first time since they've arrived at the cottage. Fred leans on the side of her bed and gathers her into his arms, pulling her in for an awkward hug. He's whispering to her, things that she can't even pay attention to because she thinks this might be the first time that she's processing that she was tortured and almost killed. The first time she's felt safe enough to even think back to it.

With that thought, her cries turn into sobs and Fred's arms tighten around her. For the first time since leaving the manor, she remembers all of the anxiety after each _crucio_, and why it had been there.

"I saw you," she whimpers. She wants to turn away and go to sleep and forget everything she's about to say, but. It's Fred. "I saw you through every curse, and every stroke of the knife. When she was cursing me I didn't even know who you were for that time—I just knew that you were safety. But most importantly, I knew that you'd be there on the other side for me. I just had to make it one second more. And after that second, I had to make it another. And then… you'd be there. And you _weren't_," she whimpers. "And when she—when she did _this_," she lifts her arm, "I _knew_ you wouldn't be waiting for me. And when she put the knife to my neck—I prayed you wouldn't be waiting for me. And then Harry and Ron brought me here, and—and you weren't waiting, but you came. You're _here_, Fred, you're _here_, and I'm so scared that this is all just a dream, and I'm so scared that it's just another second ticking by that I have to get through where I'm just waiting for you again—"

"Stop," Fred begs. "Please, Hermione. I'm here. I swear to you I am here, and I will do everything to prove that. I'm so sorry I wasn't there—"

"I'm not. Because you're _here_, and that's more important than _there_. You never needed to be waiting for me, it's just nice that you're here when I needed you. You are. It's all I needed."

Fred's eyes are leaking tears, and they fall freely. "I'm here. I'll always be here. Whenever you need me, I don't care where you are, I will be there, d'you hear me? Hermione, I'll always—I'll—I—"

"Fred," she murmurs as he begins to fall in to tears, "I hear you. I love you. Thank you."

"Don't—don't _thank_ me, I—"

Hermione sighs. "I'm always going to thank you, Fred. For existing and for loving me. For giving me a reason to hold on."

"Hermione—"

"Don't call me that," she says. "You never call me that."

Fred smiles a sad smile. "Sorry, 'Mine."

She releases a shuddering breath. "I'm safe when I'm yours. No one calls me that but you, so I know I'm safe when I hear it. When I hear you."

He doesn't say anything more, just sits with her. The silence would be uncomfortable with anyone else she thinks, but with him she's content.

At least until—

"What—" Fred chokes. "What's _that?_"

Hermione looks down at her arm. Fleur had just taken the last of the bandages off yesterday. They'd realized all too easily that the knife had been cursed and no amount of magic could heal the cuts with a wand flick. It all seemed so… _fixed_.

"D'you remember," she starts as she stares at the scabbed over letters carved into her skin, "with Malfoy—when he called me this—when I told you that I wasn't going to let this word hurt me? It was the first time I had ever heard of it. I hadn't ever realized that the wizarding world had such strong prejudices, but that they were so completely different than the muggle world. I didn't realize that this word wasn't only an insult, but also put my life at risk. I told you and everyone else that I was stronger than it. I told Ron that three weeks ago."

She looks up at him. Fred's eyes are cloudy with tears, but from the look in his eyes, Hermione can tell that he does remember.

"I don't know if this is proof that I was right, or proof that I was wrong."

"That you were _right_," he answers without a second's pause. "Blimey, look at you, 'Mine. You've just been tortured and… and _marked_ and you're still here, still ready to fight, still ready to do everything you can to end this. If you think for a second that word can over power you or make you weak, I'm here to remind you that you're wrong." He moves and curls a hand around her neck, careful and light. "It can be a reminder that you are stronger, and let it make you stronger still. Because you've never let it beat you before. And I know you're not going to start now."

"I love you."

"I love you. So much, 'Mine. More than anything else, I'll never stop."

"Are you staying tonight?"

He nods. "I'll stay as long as you need me to."

She shakes her head. "No, you can't. You have things to do outside of this cottage. I know you do. And I know that you're probably holding everyone together, aren't you? The only reason people haven't forgotten how to smile. So, no, you're going to go tomorrow, because I don't even know how long we're going to be here. It won't be much longer. But you can't stay here until we go."

"Yes I could—"

"_No_," she says. "No. I'm okay, Fred. I really am. I got out everything I needed to get out just now; I'll be fine moving forward."

Fred sighs, but nods anyways. "Am I sleeping on the floor or are you going to budge up?"

Hermione smiles, and scoots towards the wall so Fred can climb into the bed. It's a smaller bed, only meant for one person, so they're pressed close together but Hermione thinks that is perfectly fine, she can use the comfort tonight and be on her way tomorrow.

"I love you," she says again, because she does, and because she finally _can_ again.

Fred's chest rumbles with a hum and he presses a kiss to her hair. "I love you, too."

*\

There's a noise behind them that cuts Neville off, and Hermione's breath catches in her throat.

As Fred steps out of the hole in the wall, Hermione throws herself at him. He catches her with a loud laugh and hugs her tight to his chest. "Aberforth's getting a bit annoyed," he says over her shoulder as a large majority of the room cry out greetings to the newly arrived members. "He wants a kip, and his bar's turned into a railway station."

Hermione lets go of Fred after another few seconds and turns to Ginny, pulling her in for a hug as well. She moves to George and Lee as well, thanking them for coming but "I can't believe you all are doing this."

Cho Chang comes out of the hole next and greets Harry while Hermione finishes greeting her friends. There's a small argument between Harry and Neville while Fred and George turn to those around them and start cracking jokes. When Ron points out that the group of Hogwarts students might be able to help, Hermione reluctantly agrees. They do need all the help they can get right now, and while she's wary about all of these students helping in a potentially deadly situation, she knows it's their best bet.

So, with that, Luna and Harry leave the Room of Requirement, leaving Hermione and Ron to field all the questions thrown at them.

"We can't tell you guys," Hermione says apologetically. "I wish we could, but we can't risk it."

"Risk what?" Seamus demands. "We're all fightin' for the same side here, Hermione."

Ron steps forward. "Risk _you_ guys. Knowing what we're doing would put you all in even more danger than you're already in."

A Ravenclaw pipes up, "I don't think we can be in more danger—"

"Because you don't know what we've gone through these past months," Ron effectively cuts the boy off.

"We don't need to know," Neville speaks up, standing next to Hermione and Ron like a leader. He is, she thinks. He _is_ the leader of this group, and oh, wow, isn't that a surprise. She's thankful that he was the one to step up, however, as she'd place her faith in his insistence to do the right thing. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione have different roles in this war than we do. We're here to back them up, and all of us know these guys. We know we can trust them, and if they say they can't tell us, then we need to believe them."

"Well said," Fred nods. With that, the room falls into dozens of hushed conversations. Fred comes up behind Hermione and slips his hand into hers. "It fits him, don't you think?" he asks, flicking his eyes to Neville.

"It really does," she agrees. "And I'd trust no one more."

He hums and squeezes her hand, turning to Ron. They strike up a conversation, one that Hermione is comfortable listening to, but feels no need to join in on. She simply listens to the voices around her, wondering how many will still be here by the time this is all over. They're in the home stretch now, and it could come to a head at any moment. She thinks it won't take much time until she and everyone in this room are fighting for their lives. The thought makes her grip Fred's hand tighter, tight enough that he turns to face her with a look of concern.

She opens her mouth, ready to tell him that it's nothing, not quite ready to verbalize her thoughts, but just then four more people pour out of the hole in the wall and it takes everything in her not to scream. She does, however, drop Fred's hand and run over to the group, launching herself at Alicia.

"You're alive," Alicia gasps, wrapping her arms around Hermione's midsection. "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive. Thank Merlin. You're _alive_."

"So are you," Hermione breathes. "I knew you were, they would have told me—"

"Same," Alicia nods. "Fred saw you and he told me—"

"But—"

"Yeah. It's so hard to _really_ know…"

"Yeah," Hermione agrees. It'd been hard being away from her friends, but she can't imagine how stressful it must have been to have a friend on the run with no way of contacting them. Of course this meant Hermione couldn't get updates either, but her friends also weren't running with _Harry Potter_.

"How are you?" Alicia demands as she pulls back, finally looking into Hermione's eyes. "Fred told us—he told us about Bellatrix—"

"I'm—I'm good. It's behind me, now."

"We've been so worried," Katie's voice cuts in. Hermione turns away from Alicia and jumps into Katie's arms. Katie laughs and hugs Hermione back fiercely. "Merlin, it was so stressful. We knew we'd hear if something happened because… well, because. But still…"

"And disappearing like that?" Angelina joins in. "Oh, Merlin, you'd better thank everything that Fred knew you were leaving or I would be having _words_ with you."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione says, still clinging to Katie. "I didn't think much on how hard it might be if we just disappeared like that. I was hoping we wouldn't have to."

Katie squeezes her tightly once more, and then passes her to Angelina. She keeps a hand on Hermione's shoulder, however, and tells her, "it's okay. We know you didn't have another choice."

"If there had been any other way…"

"We know," Angelina says.

"Thank you guys," Hermione says.

After another minute, Angelina releases Hermione, and she waves at Oliver who nods back at her from his place next to Alicia. "Good t' see ya," he greets. "Thank you for everything you've been doing."

"And thank you," Hermione says. "I know you guys haven't just been sitting around."

"That's what we want you to think," George says, coming to stand next to Angelina while Ron greets everyone.

"We've had our feet up and have been leaning back in our chairs since the wedding," Fred tells her.

Hermione nods. "Right on, Rapier."

Fred's eyes light up. "You listened?"

"Only the once. Ron tuned us in, but then—"

"Harry didn't quite believe me about the Taboo," Ron rolls his eyes.

Before anyone can say anything further, a much, much larger group piles out of the hole.

"Mum! Dad!" Ginny yells, running across the room from where she'd been talking with Neville. "How did you—?"

"Word gets around quick," Remus answers for the Weasleys.

"And we know where we're needed," Kingsley says.

"Thank you for coming," Hermione nods as Molly and Arthur fret over Ron.

"No where else we'd rather be," Bill says.

"Well," Fleur joins with a teasing note in her voice, "maybe a few places, 'owever in this seetuation…"

They all trail off again, and Fred leans down to whisper, "how did the hunt go?"

"Alright, I suppose," she shrugs. "We've still got to—oh no."

"What?" he frowns. "What is it?"

"Ron? Ron!" Hermione calls, breaking his conversation with his mum and dad. Fred is tense beside her, likely concerned about her sudden change in demeanor but—"Ron, how are we going to get rid of them?"

Ron's eyes widen. "Oh no."

"Oh no," Hermione agrees, not sure what else to say. "We've still got—we've still got the one and—"

"And even if we find the other—"

"Exactly. How are we supposed to—"

Ron stands up straighter, jaw dropping. "I've—! The second floor girls' bathroom, 'Mione."

She frowns. "The second—_oh_. Ron that's _brilliant!_"

"We've got to go, _now_," he says.

"Of course." She turns to the group of her friends and makes eye contact with each of them. "See you on the other side?"

"We'll be there," Alicia says.

After leaning up to press a quick but rough kiss to Fred's mouth, Hermione spins on her heel and grabs Ron's hand, running towards the exit.

She hoped she'd be on the other side, too.

*\

With the destruction of the diadem, only the snake remained. "But don't you realize?" she asks urgently. "This means, if we can just get the snake—"

Before she can finish however, chaos breaks out. There are sounds of voices shouting spells, and bright lights flashing, crashing into the walls of Hogwarts. Two bodies back into sight, both of them immediately recognizable. Percy's bushy, bright red hair is even wilder than Hermione has ever seen it, and she'd know Fred anywhere.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the fight. She couldn't quite believe it'd come to this—that the Death Eaters had _actually_ broken through their defenses and gotten into Hogwarts. It was never supposed to come to that even though the probability had been high, she had never wanted it to come to that. There are too many people within these walls that she cares for.

Percy fires a curse at one of the hooded figures, and reveals Minister Thicknesse. "Hello, Minister!" he says, firing another spell. Thicknesse drops his wand and doubles over. Percy grins. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

Fred lets out a barking laugh and shoots a final stunning spell at the figure he is dueling. "You're joking, Perce!" Fred cries gleefully. He looks at his older brother, his face bright with mirth. "You actually _are_ joking, Perce… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

There's a loud cracking sound, followed by the rumble of the ceiling, and Hermione looks up to see pieces of the stone starting to crumble.

Everything happens quickly after that.

The ceiling caves in. Even through the chaos in the air—the dust blowing and the sounds of the corridor collapsing around them—Hermione can hear a desperate cry that freezes her entire body, even as she flies backward from the explosion.

"_No! Fred!_"

It sounds like Percy, and it would make sense that it was Percy—the person closest to Fred. She needs to check, needs to see, but the corridor falls then, and the dust is too thick and she can't see anything and she doesn't know which direction the yell came from anymore. She sits, stunned, waiting for the dust to settle enough to be safe to move again, and then she struggles out of the rubble. Even through the ringing in her ears, she can hear an anguished wailing coming from where Fred and Percy had been. When she looks over, Ron is kneeling between two fallen bodies. His head looks between them rapidly, his face disbelieving and absolutely broken and Hermione feels her heart drop and her stomach twist.

She can't move. She knows she should, she knows she needs to get over there and there's a battle going on but she _can't_. Her brain can't communicate to her feet to walk _towards_ Fred's body because while she doesn't believe that ignorance is bliss, but she can't go on fighting if she knows Fred is—

No.

No.

If he _is_, she'll go on fighting and she'll make every single Death Eater rue the day they chose to follow such a sick and twisted leader—make every one of them pay for what's happened.

She needs to know, because she can't cling to hope. She can't do that now, only to have it all crumble down around her and let life take him once she gets out of this. She needs to know so she can _use_ this pain. She needs to know because she'll never have another chance to avenge him.

So she climbs from the debris and rushes over to Harry and grabs his hand, pulling him with her to the three red heads. Ron is whimpering—clearly at a loss of what to do with two of his brother's bodies lying before him. Hermione wants to comfort him. She just doesn't know how. Not when her own world is crumbling.

As she approaches, she can see Percy's eyes staring at the sky—staring at _nothing_. His lips are parted enough to make her think that he might be breathing, but his chest isn't moving. His eyes don't blink, his fingers don't twitch. And, well. She knows why, even if she can't process the fact right now.

Hesitantly—oh so slowly—she turns her attention to Fred. His eyes are shut, but his lips are parted just like Percy's. His head has fallen to the side, revealing blood pooling from his head where a piece of the castle must have struck him. Must have—

She's going to be sick—really, truly sick—and she turns away, trying to keep from retching. She can't be here, she can't see this. She was wrong—she has no idea how she's going to use this to fight, not when she's so lost right now that she can't even remember why she's fighting. Not when she's in so much pain and shock that she can't _breathe_. Not when she can't come out at the other side knowing Fred will be there. She can't do that.

She staggers away and falls into a pile of debris that sits along a standing wall. Her stomach heaves and she's sick, even as she's sobbing, even as she's struggling to refill her lungs with air. She has to support herself against the wall so she doesn't collapse.

It's been either seconds or maybe hours when Harry comes to collect her. She's thankful when she feels to hands close around her upper arm, helping support her, but then they're dragging her away from the wall. She stumbles with them because she doesn't have it left in her to protest or fight. At least not until she sees the hands are leading her back to Fred, and then she yanks her arm, but Harry is much stronger than her.

Someone grabs her jaw and twists her head around, away from Fred—she hadn't even realized that she had been staring—and she's looking at Harry. His face is serious and his eyes search hers. She can see his lips moving, but she doesn't hear anything he says. She shakes her head and focuses. This could be important. "What?"

"Are you listening now?"

"Yes," she says. It's weak and exhausted and devastated, but yes. She is, even while it hurts and even while she wants to collapse.

"There are more Death Eaters on the way. We need to get Fred somewhere safe—he's breathing, Hermione. But we _need_ you right now, so we can make sure he _keeps_ breathing. _Do you understand?_"

No.

No, she really doesn't.

She shakes her head, and breaks her jaw from Harry's grasp to look to Fred.

He looks the same as when Hermione last looked at him, but there's something stirring in front of his mouth. "What is that?" she asks Harry, unable to look away from Fred.

"I thought I heard something—he was wheezing. It's the dust coming out—_anapneo_—a spell Pomfrey taught me once when I was stuck in the hospital wing. She taught me a few, what with the war… It's all I could do for him but we have to get him to safety."

Hermione nods. Her senses are coming back to her and she can hear chaos happening in other parts of the castle—thankfully very little around them, but she knows that's not going to last. She notices that the other body has gone. She turns to Harry. "Where's—what's happened to Percy?"

"Ron and I hid his body over there," he nods to an alcove, "to protect him for the time being. We'll come back for him later, I promise."

Hermione feels a wave of guilt wash over her. She'd made Ron move his own brother's dead body because she'd been too busy crying over his other brother's somehow-not-dead body. She steels herself then. A battle is not the time to mourn; it's a time to fight. She had been caught off guard, but not again. No matter who else falls—Harry, Ron, George, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, Ginny, Lee—even if it's Fred again, she will not let it stop her, she can't. Not until she's seen this through. She knows what the shock is like now. She can cry once she's fought, but the battle cannot be paused for her grief.

She hopes.

(She knows she's lying to herself, that the shock is the hardest part. Yet she also knows she's right, that she'll never have another chance at justice—no. She'll never have another chance at _revenge_ for the fallen past tonight. She will not miss her chance. Not to repay the Death Eaters for tearing her parents from her, for killing her first friend in the Weasley family, for taking the lives of so many and threatening the lives of so many more.

She _knows_.)

"Uh, Harry?" Ron's voice breaks through the noise both around them and in Hermione's head. Harry and Hermione look over to him, where he's staring at a destroyed wall. There's an acromantula staring at them through a hole—well, probably staring at them. Hermione can't really tell where it's looking. Harry fires a stunning spell at the beast while Hermione twirls around and shouts "_gravitate carentibus_" while jamming her wand at Fred. She ran over and grabbed his arms—praying to Merlin that whatever damage he received would be just fine after moving him because she had no _choice_ right now—and heaves him over her shoulders. Despite the featherlight's charms effects, she still struggles to run with him on her shoulders—he's much taller than her and she's trying not to drop him. She looks around wildly, hoping for someone or something to stick out and her eyes land on a tapestry. She runs over and sets Fred's body down and peaks back out. Harry and Ron are running from the wall. There are no acromantulas in sight and she's thankful for at least that. She calls them to the passage.

Ron ducks behind the tapestry and runs straight to Fred, who hasn't stirred yet. Ron kneels next to his brother, grabbing his hand and pleading him to wake up. Hermione sneaks behind him and examines the gash on her boyfriend's head. It looks superficial, she thinks. She spells it shut easily, which means it _was_ superficial, which means—he might be okay. He might have a concussion which—

"_Aguamenti!_" Hermione shouts, right at Fred's face.

In a second, Fred is jumping up, spluttering. "Oi!"

"Oh, thank Merlin," Hermione cries. "Do _not_ go to sleep," she tells him. "I'm sending a patronus to George and either he or someone else will come get you. Do _everything you can_ to not fall asleep, do you hear me? You probably have a concussion and—_don't_ fall asleep."

"Yes," Fred says, rubbing at his head. He blinks slowly. "'Mine…"

Hermione looks at Harry and then to Ron who is crying at his brother's side. Back at Fred. "Yours," she nods. "But we have to go, Fred. Do _not_ move; George will be here soon."

"'Mine," he says. He reaches out to grab her arm and his voice is frantic. "Where is Percy?"

Hermione stares at him. She doesn't want to tell him—_can't_ tell him because she knows that as soon as he knows—

"No," Fred says, correctly interpreting her lack of answer. "No. He-he-he did that for me. He—he pushed me. He saved me? I should be the one—"

"You're not." Her mind can't go back to that place. "You're not, and if you die then his death will have been for nothing, Fred." She thinks she's maybe being harsh, but she hopes he'll understand. She knows him better than that, though.

"Where in bloody hell is that Rockwell?"

"Fred, _no_. Go with George and _leave_, do not try to fight again, I am not losing you. You nearly died, and you're in no condition to fight. You have your wand and you only use it in _emergencies_. Do not make Percy's death pointless, don't let him have saved you only to go and die because you want to get revenge that I promise someone else can deliver. Do _not_ make me—us—lose you, Fred Weasley."

He's silent for a long moment and grabs her hand and squeezes. "I love you, 'Mine. Don't make me lose you, either," he says. He pulls her in for a quick kiss. When she pulls away, Ron throws himself in his brother's arms. Fred groans (she's almost positive he's got some broken ribs and a lot of bruising) but hugs his brother back. "Love you, Ronnikins."

"Git," Ron says. He pulls away. "Love you too. Stay safe."

"You too. And you, Harry."

Hermione tastes blood as she bites hard on her inner cheek. "Harry, you need to find Voldemort, he'll have the snake with him," she says. She waves her wand to conjure up her patronus, sending off the message to George ("_only_ George, do not stop for anyone else, if someone tries to intercept you, do not deliver the message, return to me") as she waits for Harry to do as she's asked.

"Is this that weird connection that What's-His-Face and Harry have?" Fred asks, watching Harry stare blankly at the wall behind him.

Ron nods, but keeps quiet. Harry's silent for a good three or four minutes, and Hermione wants to yell and shake him, tell him that they _don't have the time_. This is, however, easily the most important piece of information and if Harry needs a few extra minutes…

"'Mione!" a voice yells from outside the tapestry, and Hermione rushes to find George running towards them.

"Here!" she yells, waving him in and throwing him at Fred. "Get him _out_ of here, and don't let him chase after anyone he sees, do you understand?"

"'Mine—"

"_Don't you dare_," she snarls. "Don't you _dare _make this the last time I kiss you, or I _will_ rain absolute hell on you." And then she leans forward, captures his lips in a heated kiss, and pushes him away. "Get to Pomfrey. _Now_."

And then they're gone, and mere seconds later, Harry is back.

And they have a snake to kill.

*\

They enter the Great Hall and freeze. The House tables are gone and children, teenagers, and adults alike all stand in groups scattered through out the room. Down the side is a line of bodies. Hermione glances at each face, vowing to bring justice for them. About half way down the line, there's a group crowded around a body—red hair all around. Ron seems to have noticed them as well and he starts his walk to them. Hermione follows. She doesn't check to see if Harry does, as well.

She goes for Ginny first, pulling the younger girl in for a tight hug. Ginny sobs and holds on tight to Hermione, and hides her face in Hermione's neck. Hermione starts crying then, too.

Minutes pass, and she's able to share words with the entire family, sharing the pain of their loss with them. It doesn't take long for her to end up with Fred, standing beside his seated form and hugging him to her.

"We just got him back," Fred whimpers. "He just came back and I swore everything would be better and—" his voice cuts off in a sob. He clings to Hermione and cries into her stomach. "We were supposed to be a family again."

"You were a family. He saved your life."

"I didn't ask him to!"

Hermione strokes his hair. "You didn't need to. He was your big brother; he wanted to protect you. He would always protect you."

"Why did protecting me mean dying?" he asks. His voice is broken. Lost. Desperate. He looks up at her from his seat, brown eyes glossed with tears that have yet to fall. It's this, somehow, that reminds her how fucked up this all is.

They're kids—kids who have just graduated, or were about to graduate, or weren't even close to graduating.

They're sons and daughters who defy their parents so they can fight because they're fighting for something they believe in.

And, looking at Fred, she sees the little brothers, fighting along side their big brothers until one falls.

She had detached herself when she looked at the bodies on her way to Percy's, so despite having seen these kids, it hasn't hit her until Fred looks at her and she can't remember ever having seen him looking so young and vulnerable, not even that first day on the train. And maybe that's part of why it didn't occur to her while she walked past the bodies. She'd never seen most of _them_ look like… like adults. But covered in soot and blood and dirt, none of them looked particularly child like. All of them had just looked like heroes, plain and simple.

They looked like heroes that they never should have had to be.

*\

Nearly twenty minutes later, Fred is looking around the room and Hermione has her face hidden in his chest—just taking the time to be with him before the battle begins again. She starts to wonder where Harry got off to, until:

"'Mione," Fred murmurs, tensing under her hold. "Alicia…"

Hermione goes stiff. She turns her head up to look at Fred. "No," she says.

His eyes are staring off in the other direction—towards the front of the Great Hall where she has yet to look. Yet to see the bodies that lay there. Fred swallows and blinks his eyes hard. They're glistening with new tears. His voice is choked when he says, "I'm sorry, 'Mine."

"_No_," she snaps, pushing away from him, enough to turn around. She looks down the row of bodies—the ones that came after Percy that she hasn't seen. Her heart stops when she finds what Fred has seen. She turns away, back in to Fred's arms and cracks—breaks—shatters—cries. "No," she repeats, again and again and again—she doesn't know if it's denial or a plea or both. She just knows she doesn't know what to do. Fred apologizes again and she wants to yell at him just to have some one to blame, but she can't. Not when she's still crying for Percy, too, and thinking about how she was _there_ when Percy lost his life and how she _could have_ done something. Not when Fred is still crying over Percy, and Alicia too because she was his friend as well. Not when there's still a war going on and she refuses to blame anything on anyone except for their enemies.

Fred soothes her for a few more minutes until she's feeling brave enough to stand up straight and go mourn her friend. He follows, glancing behind him as they leave Percy's body. She walks slowly, hoping that maybe in the time she reaches the body she'll realize this is a dream and wake up. When she's two bodies away (and _Merlin_, bodies should never be used as a unit of measurement but here they are), she starts to understand that it's not a dream. How can it be when it's been her life for the past seven years?

"'Mione!" a voice cries, and she turns towards it just in time to catch Katie in her arms. Katie sobs and Hermione joins because now she knows it's real. There's not a doubt in her mind that it isn't, not with Katie crying like there's no tomorrow. They've lost their friend. Hermione's lost Alicia—her… her _Alicia_, because she really doesn't know how else to call her. She's not just Hermione's friend, but she feels wrong calling her a sister when Fred's _actual_ brother has also just died.

They stand holding each other until Fred reaches out and puts a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She pulls away and looks at him. He nods to someone approaching behind Katie.

"What's happened?" Angelina says urgently.

She doesn't know.

Hermione feels sick again.

Katie turns to Angelina, still crying heavily. "Alicia—she. She's—" She can't get the word out, but they're in the middle of a war, of a battle that will ultimately determine the outcome of said war, so Angelina understands as soon as Katie says the girl's name.

"Where?" Angelina's voice cracks on the single word.

"Here," Hermione says. She takes a step back so her back is against Fred's chest and so that Angelina has a clear view of their friend. And then Angelina's face is crumbling—twisting with sadness and pain. She's not crying. Hermione doesn't think she's ever seen Angelina cry, but she knows she's about to. Knows that as soon as it sinks in, Angelina will be there with Hermione and Katie, clinging to each other.

"I'm going to go and find Lee and Oliver—see if they already know," Fred says.

"Oliver was with us," Katie says, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. "He knows."

Fred nods and sets off in search of Lee. Hermione wants to offer to do it so he can go sit with his family, but she thinks that maybe he needs a break. That might be why he offered to go find them. Her heart jumps to her throat, a very real fear that Fred won't find Lee and that he's one of the bodies she hadn't seen yet, so she looks down the line. She's relieved to not find him, but that relief is short lived because she's still looking at a line up of casualties.

Next to Alicia, a family surrounds a man Hermione knows as a Ravenclaw from a few years ahead of her. From Dumbledore's Army, just like several of the casualties were.

Angelina draws in a shallow, harsh breath as she makes it to Alicia's body. "How—"

"A curse," Katie says. Her voice is thick, and she sounds like she's struggling to speak through a lump in her throat. "They broke through and then there was just—there were so many curses being shot at us. There was a student who went down gagging and coughing, and Alicia ran for him." Katie looks at the body behind them, one of a boy who can't be any more than fourteen or fifteen. Hermione thinks she recognizes him as a younger Hufflepuff. "A flurry of curses hit them both quick. She didn't even have time to _protego_."

"Do you know who—"

"Dead. Oliver and I took care of that," Katie says.

"Good," Angelina and Hermione say at the same time.

Katie breathes in a sob. "It all happened so fast, there was nothing we could… Nothing _I_ could—"

"Stop," Angelina says, tears falling freely now. "We're in a bloody battle, there's not a lot _anyone_ can do. Don't go blaming yourself."

Katie nods, but she doesn't look convinced.

It's then the Hermione takes a moment to really look at her fallen friend. She cringes when her eyes land on Alicia's face, and she feels her hands shaking at her sides. She can't even say that it looks like Alicia is sleeping, because she always furrowed her eyebrows in her sleep. So she knows that this isn't right, that this is real, and serious, and absolutely happening and she—

She gasps, throwing a hand up to her chest and gripping at her heart because she can't _take this_. She can't take the deaths and almost deaths and the fighting back because her heart feels like it's clawing its way out of her chest and her stomach feels like it's rolling around in her belly because this is _wrong_. She looks at Alicia and she feels _wrong_.

Without much hesitation, Angelina wraps Hermione in her arms, and lets her cry. It's not until Hermione notices the full body shudders going through Angelina's body that she understands that Angelina is crying too, and Katie is gripping both Hermione and Angelina's arms while she cries, looking anywhere but their fallen friend.

She's going to take this time to cry.

But she also knows this break won't last.

She is going to kill them, she thinks.

It's not a thought that scares her. No, it's a thought that comforts her. She's not hesitant. She's not second-guessing herself. She's completely confident in the fact that tonight she is going to kill someone, and she won't regret it.

She's not wasting her only chance at revenge.

*\

"Please don't ask me to hide," Fred says. "They killed my brother. They killed Alicia. Don't ask me to not fight, because I don't want to have to tell you no."

Hermione bites her lip. "Pomfrey mended you?"

"Yes. It's still sore, but she said that's an after effect of the spell. You've seen how effective her spell work is on concussions, 'Mine. Harry _is_ one of your best friends, after all."

Hermione nods. "I won't ask you to. Please just—"

"I know. You too." Fred leans down and presses his lips to hers. It's short—too short for what Hermione knows could be (but hopes, prays, wishes that it won't be) their last kiss. So she grips the back of his neck and drags him down to kiss him again. It's harsh and fast and not enough and she wishes they had had more time. Through their entire lives, she wishes they had been able to be together more, loved each other longer. She's okay with dying tonight, for her life to be taken so the wizarding world remains safe. She's not okay with all the time that has been stolen from her if she does die tonight.

As she kisses him, she thinks: this is not our last kiss. This is not the end.

And then she thinks: but if it is, so be it. We'll face it together until the very end.

*\

"_No!_" McGonagall wails. A shock travels up Hermione's spine. Her hand clutches tighter to Fred's, trying to get to the door to see what's—

"_Harry!_" Ginny's voice cries, just as Hermione breaks through the line of students and teachers, and screams. She's not sure what she screams, but she knows she screams. She cries. She hates herself. She should have made sure Harry was following her when she went to see Percy. She shouldn't have left him alone for a second. She should have known he'd do something stupid like this. Like getting himself killed.

(She did know, and that maybe makes it worse—that she knew and she didn't even think to make sure he didn't.)

Noise rose up above her in a tidal wave, crashing harshly over Voldemort and his followers. She hears laughter from the other side, hears these Death Eaters _laughing_ at the corpse of one of her closest friends and it fuels her. She shuts her mouth and stops screaming and grips tight to her wand. She's going to kill them—she's going to _destroy_ them, and she doesn't care about anything else at this point. They've taken so much from her. Her parents, her friends, her entire childhood, these people have ruined it all and Hermione is done letting them.

She turns away from Harry's body because there will be plenty of time to mourn him—after.

(And oh, how it hurts in her chest that she _can_ turn away from him, that she's already been through so much tonight that seeing his body isn't paralyzing anymore, and instead is just more justification for the violence she's going to expel.)

"SILENCE!" Voldemort screams, and a hush falls over the crowd. She watches him as he paces, speaking to the crowds. She hears Ron speak out against him, as Voldemort lies to them, because Harry is the most self-sacrificing person she knows. She feels her heart sink as Neville is sent to the ground, as Voldemort tries to urge him to the Death Eaters. She listens to Neville's pain filled screeching as the Sorting Hat burns around him and wants to help, but Fred's hand in hers tightens as keeps her grounded where she is.

And then she sees, feels, and hears a thunder approaching the castle. Hundreds of feet pounding into the ground as they approach, and for the first minute, Hermione digs her nails into Fred's hand, positive that they're about to die. But then Grawp breaks through, and she sees a few familiar faces in the charging group and she thinks _oh_. This is exactly what they need to turn the battle in their favor.

"Harry! Harry—_where's Harry?_" Hagrid yells, and Hermione has to fight against the urge to go look for her friend's body that might be getting pummeled under all of the retreating bodies. She spares a fleeting thought that they're all running into the Great Hall where all of the bodies are laid out and realizes that for now, she's going to have to be okay with that.

When they break into the castle, Fred's hand rips from hers and she turns to see him pass his wand from his left hand to his right and cast a _protego_, as three curses fly up and pelt against the shield. She raises her want then, and looks around for anywhere she can help. It's too chaotic to tell at the moment, so she settles on casting shield charms around herself and the people around her.

When the group finally breaks and she can move more freely, she looks at the line up of Death Eaters between the two Hogwarts groups. She watches as the Death Eaters break off, splitting up and pushing the two groups further and further apart and Hermione curses because it's a good strategy and they're separating them from their allies. She fires spell after spell at each Death Eater she sees, hearing some scream and watching some drop at her choices in spells. She watches Fred fire a spell at a Death Eater and watches as they melt into a pile of goo. George, who's just in front of her, fires a body-binding spell at another, and she watches as he sends another spell flying and the figure is swallowed into the floor.

With the battle now back in full swing, she looks around for anyone she can help. She sees a younger Gryffindor student battling against a Death Eater and shoots a _confringo_ at the Death Eater, turning back to the student to make sure they're okay before she can see the outcome of her spell, though she knows for certain that there's no way the Death Eater could have survived. When the student backs away and turns to run into the crowd again, she turns back and sees Ginny, casting _protego_ after _protego_ as Bellatrix advances towards her and Luna, firing spell after spell.

Without a second thought she abandons Fred's side and runs for the youngest Weasley sibling, screaming out _reducto_ and firing at Bellatrix's feet. The witch is thrown back and for a second Hermione thinks they're in the clear, but then she's standing up, cackling manically and firing more spells, in quicker succession. Hermione keeps throwing up shields, but the spells are stronger and stronger and suddenly a green light is shooting towards Ginny and Hermione's heart stops.

It misses, just barely, but Hermione doesn't even have time to be thankful because she's still got to keep a shield up. At least, until Molly comes charging over, screeching at the top of her lungs and Bellatrix looks _delighted_. She shifts her attention from Ginny, Luna, and Hermione and focuses solely on Molly and—

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" Bellatrix sings as she dances away from each of the curses Molly sends her way. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Percy-Wercy?"

Molly screams again, "you—will—never—touch—our—children—again!"

And then she fires a curse and Hermione feels her jaw drop as she watches Bellatrix freeze before falling to the ground, dead. Around her, cheers rumbled as if they were at a Quidditch match and then—

"_Protego!_"

And _she knows that voice_. She _knows_ that voice and her heart swells in he chest and she looks around frantically, just as everyone else is until—

"Harry!" she screams along with half of the hall.

The ensuing minutes are tense and anxious, listening to Harry speak and Voldemort try to fight back against his words, but when Voldemort falls to the ground—

She's the first to move, along with Ron, as they run to their best friend, nearly tackling him to the floor. Hermione sobs into Harry shoulder, gripping his jacket tightly in her fists think _he's here, he's alive, we've won, he's done it, we're free_.

Almost the entire Hall follows them, and within seconds Hermione is entrapped in a group of hundreds of people, all converging on one another, all converging towards Harry, the reason it was over at last.

*\

Once Harry has gone up to bed, she finds herself out by the lake. There are countless others out here as well, all clinging to their family members, friends, or partners. It's the greatest display of love that she's seen in years, and she continues to lift a hand, over and over, clearing her face of tears and snot trails left behind from the pure emotion that the scene is eliciting.

A part of her heart feels wilted—blackened and charred and flaking away.

She looks to the right, where there's a small dueling field where Percy taught her all the spells he did her first year. To the half bridge over the lake, where he found her after a particularly embarrassing comment made by Lavender the very first week of school. To the castle, where he had brought her in, and given her the most wonderful introduction to magic.

She looks to her left, to a tree where she and Alicia studied on the warm days. To the picnic tables, where they would sit after nicking food from the kitchens. To the waters, where they'd soak their feet while talking about anything and everything.

How many others were looking around Hogwarts, plagued with these same thoughts? That their friends and family are gone and they have to live with these reminders for the rest of their lives?

Hermione shakes her head and bites down on her lip to keep herself from crying. She wants to, so bad, thinks that she needs to, really.

But a part of her also feels like—like she's in full bloom. She's also overjoyed, and that makes her want to cry even more. How can she be so _happy_ when Alicia is gone? When Percy is? When Remus and Tonks and an entire line up of bodies are being moved for their funerals? Who might not even get to have an individual funeral, because there are just _too many_.

Is it awful that she's relieved?

Is it awful that she's excited?

It is, she decides.

Even with the strain Voldemort put on her life, even with the danger gone, she should be mourning, shouldn't she? It's not like she isn't. Her mind is filled more with Alicia's blank face more than it is Voldemort's corpse. But she's… she wants to cry, but she doesn't know if she'll be crying in pain or joy. She wants to scream, but isn't sure if it will come out anguished or giddy.

She hears footsteps approaching and turns to see who has come out. She's overwhelmingly relieved when she sees that it's Fred. She hasn't seen him since Harry pulled her away from the group this morning. He looks like he hasn't slept at all, but he's free of all the dirt and grime he'd been covered in before, so he's at least a step ahead of Hermione.

"I saw you from the window," he says in greeting. "Have you been up this whole time?"

"Yeah," she nods. "I'm not tired."

"Neither am I," he admits. "Don't see how anyone could be."

"Yeah."

"How long have you been out here?" He's nearly to her now, and is sticking his hands in his pockets. She wants to yell—wants his hands to reach out for her instead, but she knows that might be asking too much right now.

She looks around, sees the same people she's been seeing since she came down, but some have left, and some new people have come down, and she still isn't sure what her answer should be. "A few hours," she settles on.

Fred's eyebrows shoot up as he takes his place next to her. "Just been thinking?"

She shrugs.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't think that's a question anyone should be asking anyone else for a very long time," she says.

Fred nods. "I guess so."

"How's your family doing?"

"Haven't seen Ronni, so you probably know how he's doing better than I do, but Mum slept a bit and is back in the Great Hall helping write letters to all the families who… who lost someone."

"That's nice of her."

Fred shrugs. "I think she feels guilty that some people didn't get their last moments with each other like we did."

"Still."

"I know."

There's a booming laugh from a group of witches and wizards a ways away from them, and Hermione takes time to listen to something other than her own thoughts for a moment. She wonders if they were some of the lucky ones who didn't lose anyone and feels a surge of anger towards them for a second. She shoves it back down as quick as it floated up because _how_ could she be angry at that, if that's even the truth? They might just be better at processing their emotions than her. Maybe they're already reminiscing on memories. Maybe they're celebrating the end of an era. Maybe they're friends who are overwhelmed with relief that they're all still together. Maybe—

"What're you thinking?" Fred asks. Hermione snaps her head away from the group and looks back to Fred. His eyebrows are furrowed and one hand is out of his pocket and extended towards her.

"Nothing."

"'Mine."

She shakes her head. "It's—it's so—"

"So what?"

"I don't know what I'm thinking, because I don't know what I'm feeling," she admits. "I'm—I'm—I _hurt_ so bad, but there's this annoying voice in my head that's telling me to be _happy_ and I can't even think like that right now—"

"'Mine, love," Fred says, "it's okay to be happy. It's okay to be relieved."

"I shouldn't be happy," Hermione shakes her head. "They're _gone_ and they shouldn't be."

Fred lifts his arm to wrap around her shoulder and kisses her temple. "You're absolutely right. They shouldn't be. And it's absolutely not fair. But, 'Mine, Voldemort is _dead_. We're allowed to celebrate, even while we mourn."

"How can you say that?" Hermione asks. "How can you want to celebrate _anything_ right now—"

"Voldemort is dead."

"So is Alicia, so is—"

"Voldemort is dead."

"How many people lost their family members and friends—"

"Voldemort is dead."

"And bloody _good riddance!_" Hermione finally snaps, flaring with anger—the first feeling apart from _confusion_ she's felt for hours. "But _why_ did he have to take others _with him?_"

Fred pulls her in, and she falls apart in his arms. She stands, head shoved into his chest, crying for the next who knows how many minutes. He stands with her the entire time, rubbing a hand up and down her back, up and down her arms, cooing gentle words into her hair and gentle reassurances into her skin.

"They're gone, Fred," she whispers. "So many of them."

"I know, love," he says back. His voice cracks, but she doesn't have the strength to lift her head to look at him to see if he's crying, too.

"Why do I have to fight so hard to keep myself from feeling happy right now?" she asks. "I—I know there's a part of me screaming to just be so _joyous_, but how can I—why am I—what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, 'Mine. It's a complicated time right now," he says, stroking her hair, "but it's _okay_ to feel relief that the man who has taken so much from you can't anymore."

"Okay," she says, because she's so tired of fighting. The time to fight has come and gone, and now it's time to rest.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

And she lets herself, for just a few moments, smile.

*\

Hermione spends much of the next few days with Angelina and Katie.

It feels different, but Hermione can't say how, exactly. They spent time together without Alicia before, but there's a tone of finality floating around them that won't go away no matter how much they try to shoo it. It changes up every so often, too. There are long moments of silence that weigh on them all heavily, and then there are times where they speak as if Alicia is just in the library and she'll be coming back in a matter of minutes.

That changes when Oliver's owl pecks at the common room's window.

"Oliver said her parents haven't decided on a day for the funeral," Katie says, her voice empty as she stares down at the letter that had just arrived.

"Her aunt and cousin died, too," Angelina points out in a monotone. "They're probably trying to schedule all three of them far enough apart…"

"They're a small family, too," Hermione murmurs. "Merlin, I can't even imagine—"

"Neither can I," Angelina says. "They're close, too."

"We should probably talk about her," Katie says, looking down at the letter in her hands.

Hermione nods. They should, but. "I don't know what to say."

"Neither do I," Katie says with a tight voice, and Hermione looks up and sees a trail of tears down her friend's face.

Angelina huffs out a laugh that sounds closer to a sob, and crosses her arms over her chest. "The worst part is that if Alicia were here, she'd be guiding us through this."

"If it had been any of us that—if it had been any of us, she would have made us talk it through that very first night," Hermione agrees.

"I wish it was me," Katie says.

"Don't say that," Angelina snaps. "Don't—I wish it was _no one_. But I'd never _trade_—Merlin, we shouldn't have to be having this conversation."

Finally, Katie sets the letter down and brings her hands up to cradle her face, wiping away the tracks of tears. "I just can't stop thinking about watching her—she just fell to the ground. Oliver thought she'd been stunned at first, but she—Merlin, she—"

"Hey," Hermione cuts her off, moving to wrap her arms around her friend. Katie slumps in her seat and into Hermione's grip and slowly begins to fall apart. Hermione pulls her closer and Angelina joins the hug from Katie's other side. "Katie, there was nothing you could have done. You know that, right?"

"I could have—"

"No you couldn't have," Angelina stops her before she can get into any made up scenario her mind has concocted. "You really think Alicia would have let you do anything to endanger your life? No," she says, and her voice is thick with the tears that she's holding back. "You know Alicia and you know she went into the battle knowing that if anyone was going to—to die on her watch it was going to be her."

"I never thought I'd hate the fact that she is exactly what a Gryffindor should be," Katie says with a weak laugh. "Merlin, I looked up to her for years because I thought… _this. This is what a Gryffindor is_."

"I did, too," Hermione admits. "There were so many times I doubted my decision for the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw because I looked at Alicia and thought _I'll never live up to her_. But she's also the one who told me that I was Gryffindor, through and through. She's right about everything, so I believed her."

"Merlin, she really was right about everything," Angelina says with a fond eye roll. "You two are lucky you didn't share classes with her, she's always correcting me."

"She told me things about myself before I even knew them," Katie laughs.

Hermione sighs. "She cares more than anyone else I've ever known, that's how she always knows. She's always looking out for everyone."

There's a long silence and then Angelina whispers, "_cared_."

Oh.

"Cared," Hermione repeats back, and a pang travels from her heart to her fingertips.

"_Fuck!_" Katie yells from between the two girls. "Fuck, this isn't _fair_."

"No," Angelina says. "It's not."

"My dad told me to be strong," Katie frowns. "I don't know what that means. Does that mean to soldier through or does it mean to confront this head on? Neither one feel like an option and both are _so hard_."

"You don't have to be strong, Katie," Hermione tells her. "That wasn't fair of him to say."

"You don't have to be anything," Angelina agrees, "but you're still strong even when you're not trying. Whether you choose to soldier through or confront it—whichever you do, you are being strong. Because the only strength you really need is the strength that will carry you through how _you_ need to get through."

Katie looks up and sniffles. "When did this turn into _comfort Katie?_ You two—"

"You're helping us, too," Hermione says. "I'm… I don't know how to process this. And you're helping."

"And _fuck_, you deserve _comfort Katie_ time," Angelina adds on.

"You deserve comfort time, too."

"This is pretty comforting," Hermione says, squeezing Katie in her arms. "Being with you two. Talking about it, finally. I'm good at bottling things up. This is… it's good. It's a start. For all of us."

"Oh Merlin, this is just the _start_," Katie mumbles.

"I know," Hermione frowns. "I don't think… I haven't processed it, yet. It just feels like she's not here. I know she's not coming back but I…"

"Haven't accepted it yet?" Angelina suggests. Hermione nods. "Neither have I."

"I have," Katie says. "That might be because I saw—I. I've accepted that she's not coming back."

Hermione squeezes her friend tighter, because she's not sure what else to do. She's not sure what else there is _to_ do. Her eyes are sore from unshed tears, and she knows she's not the only one. It's making her tired, and the emotional drainage isn't helping at all. Katie leans into Hermione, and sniffles once more, and Hermione feels Angelina's arms over lapping with hers, and she thinks that this is incomplete, and that she's going to have to learn to live with this feeling for the rest of her life.

*\

Most people have made their way home by now, only a few remain at Hogwarts. The majority of people who are still remaining have begun clean up, much like Hermione has been doing the past few days.

Harry returned back to Grimmauld with Sirius two days ago, with Ginny following closely after to join the two of them and settle back into her relationship with Harry. Molly and Arthur travelled back to the Burrow once all of the bodies had been returned to their families, and started work for Percy's funeral. Angelina and Katie, Ron, Lee, Fred and George, they have all remained, and Hermione thinks that they all, like her, are too hesitant to return to normal life. Cleaning up Hogwarts feels like dedicating herself to making things right again. Each day feels more and more like they're putting things back and pushing the memories of the battle away. Hermione can't decide if that's a good or bad thing.

Hermione and the others have left Hogwarts occasionally—making their way to several funerals, for both people they knew and people they did not. They can't make it to every one, but Harry does, and Hermione sees the toll it is taking on him. He carries bags under his eyes, darker than they've ever been before, and he's moved to keeping a hairbrush in his pocket for the amount of time he's run his hands through his hair. It doesn't help much since his hair has never sat quite right, but it makes him feel more presentable to these families, and Hermione will let him get away with that.

She watches as Ron and Katie dance their way around each other. It's too soon for Katie to be happy—not that Hermione thinks that, but she can tell that the guilt eating at her friend has not given in at all. Still, Hermione sees Ron holding Katie in the hall where Alicia died, and Katie gripping his shirt to hold him closer. Ron suggests they move to a different part of the castle to work, and Katie reluctantly agrees, looking around the hall one last time before she steps up next to Ron, gripping his hand in hers. Hermione watches their friendship grow stronger, watches Ron grow into himself where he's not over shadowed by Harry and Hermione, and she thinks that those two will be alright.

She heeds Lee's expertise at directing all of the remaining students and staff around. He hasn't cleaned so much, but he's done just as much work, taking over for McGonagall and willingly partnering with Filch to get the castle fixed in the most efficient way. He holds his head high while he works, calling out orders as he makes his rounds around the castle. Sometimes she thinks she sees his eyes gloss over, like he's lost in a memory. She's not entirely sure where he was during the battle—what he'd been through, who he'd seen fall—but she knows, like everyone else, he's still needing time to recover. She wishes she could help him, but she doesn't think she's the best person for the job, and instead watches as Angelina meets with him at the end of each day and sits with him while they eat dinner, just talking everything over.

She sees Angelina and George flitting around the castle together, both using the repairs as a distraction. Still, each night in the Gryffindor common room, when everyone is relaxing together and putting the work of the day behind them, she sees the forlorn looks cross their features. They are there for each other though—as Angelina holds George when he talks about Percy, and George squeezes Angelina's hand when she talks about Alicia. She hears them talking together once, George bringing up a memory of Alicia and Angelina thanking him. They swap memories after that, and Hermione thinks Angelina looks lighter the next day. It doesn't last all day, but it was there at the start, and it's progress.

She notices Fred's disappearance for several hours at a time, but she always knows where to find him. He's always in the same spot in the entrance hall, babbling away to Percy, updating him about the progress they're making. He lets Hermione sit with him sometimes when he's talking, and holds on to her hand a lot of the time. When he's not there, he's with McGongall and Lee, working with them to delegate tasks because Fred, for all of his disorganization, is good at planning. She finds herself watching and laughing one day as Fred, George, and Flitwick all work around the swamp in the upstairs corridor that the twins had left there years ago, struggling to get the rubble out of the murky waters. They're all soaking and a dirty green color by the end, and Hermione ends up having to run away, screaming as Fred runs after her with his arms extended for a hug.

And Hermione—well.

She works on the repairs in silence most days, thinking that this is some kind of memorial service to all of the fallen. With each flick of her wand she's putting back the pieces that had been torn out, and while it can't bring those that were lost back, it can start to return life to normal. Then there are the days that she feels so full of energy and so full of words that she babbles, even if no one is listening. Most of the time someone is with her, listening, but they rarely ever get a word in. She lets her thoughts pour out of her—some good, some sad, some absolutely ridiculous. No one seems to mind any of them, but she wonders if it's just that her friends are too tired to protest against her constant ramblings. So there are some days she follows Fred's lead and goes to the corridor where Alicia had died and just… sits. And talks. And cries, sometimes. Sometimes she closes her eyes and focuses, and during those times she can still hear Alicia's voice, and her laugh, and it's enough to tide her over.

And sometimes she finds herself out at the lake, just like old times.

Today she's out with Fred. She's got her arms wrapped around his waist and her ear resting on his chest, listening to the gentle tempo of his heart beat.

"Home tomorrow," Fred says.

"Mmm," Hermione hums. "I'm looking forward to going twenty-four hours without being covered in dust."

"That's a perk," he nods. "You're still coming home with me, right?"

Hermione looks up at him. "Is it still alright that I do?"

"Of course. I just—" he cuts himself off and looks out at the lake. He looks nervous from Hermione's angle, and her heart seizes in her chest.

"Fred?"

"Marry me."

Hermione blinks. "What?"

Fred turns to stare down at her, and all of the nervousness she'd seen is gone. His eyes are calm, and there's a soft smile on his lips. "You heard me."

"Okay."

He grins.

"_Hmmm_," he coos, pulling her in, hugging her so his arms are wrapped fully around her. She feels safer than she has in years.

She rests her chin on his chest and laughs. "What are you thinking?"

"_Fiancée _o'Mione."

"Oh, _Merlin_, no," she groans, moving to push away, but he only squeezes her tighter to his chest, somehow. "Fred!"

"_Bride_ o'Mione," he sings.

"Fredrick!"

He loosens his grip and stares down at her. "_Wife_ o'Mione."

She tries to glare at him—really, she does. She just _can't_. So much has happened the past four weeks and it's been exhausting, but. But Voldemort is _gone _and now she's marrying her best friend. For the first time since she first boarded the Hogwarts Express—for the first time _ever_, perhaps—she feels weightless.

Fred leans down and presses a kiss to her dirtied forehead, to her nose, to her lips. He presses his forehead against hers and sighs. "'Mine."

When he says that—the name that he's been calling her for over six and a half years at this point—she doesn't hear ''Mine.' She doesn't hear 'Hermione.' She doesn't hear a name at all. She only hears 'I love you.'

_Yes_, she thinks, and says it back. "Yours."

* * *

_Thank you all so much for sticking through this with me. _

_You can always find me at raquians on tumblr, I hope some of you stop by! _

_The epilogue will be posted as a separate story, hopefully within the next few months. _


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